Reading day

A day of reading. I read Why You Should Read Children's Books, Even Though You Are So Old and Wise an excellent essay by Katherine Rundell that Rosie had recommended I read. Really stout defence of the value of children's literature and why adults should read it too. A couple of pleasingly anxious short stories by the horror writer Shirley Jackson, from my new collection The Lottery and Other Stories. I finished a group of four short stories by Thomas Ligotti called In a Foreign Town, in a Foreign Land. At one point I went to the laundrette and started The White Book by Han Kang, a book which I took from Janet's things last time I went to her flat with Madeline, as nobody had wanted it.

There was a one-armed older man in the launderette.  I felt bad that I had nipped in and, without realising, used the only free drier before he had finished. A woman helped him load and unload the tumbler at one point, which was good. He pointed out I had dropped a  sock, and I wanted to talk to him but he would never catch my eye.

Otherwise a quiet day. Lorraine has put Betty on the insurance for the car, and they went off to test drive. Lorraine said Beth is an excellent driver now, and Betty enjoyed driving it.

Chatting to Mum this afternoon, and telling her how important her Skelton pictures had been in the development of my children's story. Otherwise I did bits of writing this afternoon. As Lorraine did a spot of schoolwork, and packed for her trip with a couple of dozen school kids off to the Isle of Wight tomorrow.

We had a roast chicken with lots of vegetable for supper. Jolly nice it was, and we watched Antiques Roadshow, which the older I get the more I find curiously comforting and interesting.