This afternoon brought the tragic news that Scottish author Iain Banks, aged only 59, has inoperable cancer of the gall bladder and has been told he has only months to live.
I associate his first novel, the dark and brilliantly murderous The Wasp Factory (1984) with my first year as a ‘grown-up.’ It was a year of new experiences and beginnings. Remembering reading the book first time around, threw me back into the excitements of that year; reading his personal announcement about his own suddenly discoverable ending, predictably tinged with dark humour, made me feel very sad for the author, his family and his loyal readers.
I still have The Wasp Factory but I'm increasingly wary of re-reading books that once thrilled me. Too often I find them disappointing or hard to get into or simply turgid and then the memory of them is spoiled. It's the equivalent of re-visiting somewhere you loved as a child, a house, a street, a beach and finding it smaller and meaner and only ordinary.
Later, I took Cally 'round the block' and came back via the High Street where a new shop is about to open next to Lane End Kitchenware. The new shop is called The Strawberry Fox and will be selling such vital things as expensive Ladies' handbags and accessories.
The window and interior are taking shape and it's all fabulous kitschy princess bling with a big acrylic chandelier and a fluffy bright pink Louis XV style chair in the window and the promise of lots of frivolous deliciousness to come and gorgeous-up our austerity.
03.04.2013
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| Because the Woods Are Scary |
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| Aprés Le Cirque |
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| A Great Decluttering |
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| Rise & Shine! |
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