When I am not blogging about what I read I am reading but not necessarily blogging. If there is a brief interlude it is usually because I am reading some gravy stained old library copy of some forgotten women author. There is D.E. Stevenson (her accolytes call themselves Dessies), Elizabeth Goudge, Ann Bridge and no doubt many others. They are usually British, invariably cozy and totally forgettable. I often take out the same copy twice in my confusion over whether I have read it before. Then I notice the particular stain on page 38 and realize I have already read it... Nothing much bad happens and everything is all right in the end. It is my equivalent to a brief pause for a Station Identification Break.
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