Wednesday - all day as my mother would say - and a cold, miserable, wintry one at that. I have had a busy morning - first of all emptying the washing machine which my carer left on and putting the stuff into the tumble drier and then my Tesco order came. The staff who bring it are always, without exception, such nice friendly men (or once a woman). They push the liners into the kitchen from the garage so that I can empty them bit by bit by using my trolley. I have finished that now and needed a rest before eating my delicious-looking chicken salad she has left me, hence an early posting which might well be extended later in the day.
A few days ago I spoke of Graham Swift's 'Mothering Sunday' and how much my Book Group had enjoyed it. I spoke of the trial over the content of DH Lawerence's 'Lady Chatterley' and said it was in the twenties. Itwas in fact only in the sixties. I was astonished - that means that I was in my thirties when it took place. The article also spoke of Philip Larkin - in my view one of the best poets of the twentieth century. Larkin thought Lawrence 'The greatest writer of the century'. He said Lawrence was 'flexible, vivid, tender and sharp and that he had more genius than any man could be expected to handle'. Whatever your views on Larkin or Lawrence for that matter - one thing is certain - Lawrence opened the floodgates and we have come an awful long way since then. Wouldn't you agree?
It is now mid afternoon. I have just had an e mail from my neighour. In 'normal' times we would be having a cup of tea and catching up on news but of course these are still not normal times are they? I just switched on to look at The News - all Budget of course and more or less gobbledegook to me so I switched off again. See you tomorrow