Back at the typeface. Just.

There are times when I’m grateful for small things, like the five-hour time difference between the UK and the eastern side of the USA. This is one of those times. It’s past six pm UK time, but still early afternoon over there, so I’m not so very late with this week’s post. Though I don’t promise it will make a lot of sense.
This time yesterday I was on autopilot, emptying suitcases, making piles of grubby clothes, trying to remember where the freezer was, wondering if my brain would ever work again... Today after eleven hours’ sleep I’ve felt pretty much OK all day, but you should see the state of my in-box! My philosophy of life has always been everything has its price, and the price of two weeks’ vacation in one of the prettiest parts of the USA appears to be a small mountain of laundry and an awful lot of spam. I spent something like two hours just deleting the stuff this morning, and I’ve been filling and emptying the washing machine all day.
So my brain is still on go-slow,and this will therefore be short. The need to make sense aside, real life has kicked in with a vengeance, and all that laundry now has to be ironed...
First of all, a big public thank-you to my beautiful and brilliant daughter Meriel, whose posts are always a lot more interesting than mine. If the Dead Guy team ever decide they’ve had enough of me, they’ll know where to go for a substitute. I especially enjoyed the one about Before I Go To Sleep, which I see is nominated for yet another award. Coincidentally I was reading it at the time. So that’s next week’s post sorted... Thanks for that too, Mez.
I may have observed before that when I go on holiday, something always happens. One year Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait. Another time Ronald Reagan died. I was in France when the world’s economy went into meltdown. Last year Paul Newman breathed his last.
This year the Queen had her diamond jubilee, which wasn’t exactly a disaster, and we knew about it before we left. We managed to miss every flag-wave, even on TV. Apparently it poured with rain most of the time, which was sad for all the street parties, but honestly, what did they expect? It was England, and June!
So this time no major disaster seems to have overtaken the world while I’ve been away, unless you count all that rain (yes, Paul Newman’s death was a major disaster!), but Ray Bradbury died at a ripe old age, so I suppose the jinx hasn’t quite lifted. Maybe next year.
Oh dear. This blog is about crime and mystery fiction, isn’t it? Not a lot about it so far. Sorry about that. Here goes.
Old Haunts by a certain E J Copperman is now on my to-read bookshelf. (Whaddya mean, why haven’t I read it? I only bought it on Monday!) Alongside it are a J D Robb three-stories-in-one, and a Lee Child I didn’t know existed. A browse in Barnes & Noble is an essential component of any visit to the USA.
And there I think I’d better call it a day. My brain thinks it’s four in the morning for some reason, and four in the morning only exists in other people’s imagination (or when my husband has eaten a bad clam – I suppose that could qualify as this year’s disaster).
I’ll try to be back in synch next week.

PS. The Ben and Jerry’s tour in Waterbury, Vermont, is great fun. The ice cream’s not bad either.

Comments

[Adele]

I have that vacation jinx, too - only it's seriously bad stuff that happens where I'm going, just before I go there. I arrived at a mexican Club Med just after bandits invaded and robbed another mexican Club Med. I arrived in London just after terrorists bombed Kings Cross Station. I arrived at the Panama Canal just after the US invaded Nicaragua. Nobody has as many vacation happy-snaps of machinegun-toting guards and helicopter gunships as I do. Pity I don't write thrillers.