You know how I’m forever bemoaning the Reading Weeks I never get?

Well, this year, thanks to a longer rehearsals break, I’ve decided that things can take care of themselves for a few days while I read a little for fun and pleasure…

So I’m reading. Reading summery, make-believeish things. Sabatini’s the Sea Hawk, Sutcliff’s Swords at Sunset, and, if all goes well, Arthur Conan Doyle’s The White Company. It doesn’t seem like much for a whole week, I know – but there are whole non-reading days (my mother’s birthday celebrations, and a visit from my imaginary godson), and I’m not entirely sure some work won’t intrude in the next couple of days.

Still, I’m very much savouring it. To wake up with not much on the To Do List except reading is a form oh happiness. It also greatly helps that the heat has broken, so one can seat for long hours in the garden, or the verandah, or in bed late at night, without the impression of swimming in hot water.

So yes, this is about as happy as can be – and, while Oedipus, three editings, and some copy, and one local historian are clamouring for attention and hard work, I hope they can wait for a couple more days while I read, can’t they?

Salva