[The embedding doesn’t work for some reason. Do click through, it’s worth it.]
I just finished reading Moab Is My Washpot. Lovely, do read it if you haven’t (and thanks for lending it to me..). Made me reflect on my childhood, on what I can remember, and do a bit of compare and contrast. How is it that experience can differ so widely, yet human emotions are so much the same, so recognisable, so easy to relate to? And why is it that at my respectable age (define that how you will) I still so often feel what I felt at eighteen? (I’m a one-woman never-ending existential crisis zone.)
Mr Fry is very comforting, though. I need more QI DVDs to watch in the evening – absolutely brilliant if sleep is not forthcoming. Maybe audio books?