grey, time,early

The sun persists on a grey afternoon And how glad we are of its milky glow.

It is clear to me that there will never be time to read and reread all the books that I want to. The worst thing to do is to drift from one book to another. without finnishing any one of them.When you open a book. I tell myself, you should see it through to the end, even, as sometimes happens, the bitter end. In the last year or so I have tackled the problem by dividing my reading time into four or more sections. And then asigning certain times to certain books, and sticking very strictly to this routine. So at the moment, it is Zola's La Terre before breakfast and in the hour so before rur evening meal. Last thing at night, at the moment, it is The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, (until recently this slot was devoted to Gullivers Travels). The afternoon is at the moment giventoTony Judt's Post War, a history Eurpope from 1945 until the present day. Four books at a time isn't I suppose bad going, but I wouldn't be able to keep it up, if I didn't stick to the rules. Then there are things to do and to be done, other than reading. "Always got his nose in a book,"   is not a nice thing to say of someone , though you could say it of me . Though if you did I it would not ne entirely true.  I do other things. Yes I do.

This morning, in anticipation of a the visit of my daughter Pippa and her  family, I get up early to peel the potatoes, trim the sprouts and anoint the joint. The sight of everything ready and  in its
 place is encouraging.