Daily Archives: 21 September, 2015

Literary things

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My last (finished) book of the season would seem to have been Matt Haig’s The Radleys. I finished it in less that 2 days. I like Matt’s writing it’s a good but easy read and the ideas are interesting. It was written before The Humans but again the theme is seemingly ordinary people who can’t quite fit in (to normal life). Very enjoyable.

Then, a couple of weekends ago was the Mantova Festivaletturatura. I went only for the Saturday. I had hoped that Lola would be with me and, there was a ever-so-slight chance that F would be able to come. In the end, it was just me.

I arrived sometime after 10. I went to the office to see M and S, booked lunch at the Griffone Bianco (as always) and noticed that Kenzuo Ishiguro was on. Given that I had read The Buried Giant on holiday as one of my books, I thought I’d go along to see him.

He was quite interesting but I’m glad that I had already read the book as it made what he had to say more understandable.

I left just after they had started asking questions from the audience as I had lunch booked and the venue was quite a few minutes walk away.

I sat outside – the day was very warm, the sun shining and, to be honest, a typical Mantova day.

I had chosen my food but not yet ordered when Peter Florence appeared. He asked if he could join me and, of course, it was a pleasure. We talked about mutual friends, the Hay Festival and his son 8who was about to leave for Veterinary College) and his family and recent holiday. And, possibly, we mentioned something about me and my life but it’s hardly as interesting, as my regular readers know.

Of course, he had to prepare for his interview and I had to, as ordered by Lola, to go and see Jo Nesbø. I had read one of his books (his first) last summer. Unfortunately, lunch with Peter took a little longer than I had anticipated and so I came into the venue only just before it started and so there wasn’t a seat to be had. I ended up right at the back, sitting on a stone ledge against the back wall, looking over a sea of heads to figures that could have been anyone to be frank.

Still, it was an interesting talk – about his latest book.

Having said goodbye to the my Festival friends, I wandered back to the station via a couple of beers and made the train. I wasn’t too late back but learnt, on the way, that F had “done his back in”. I was grateful it was now rather than during the summer like last year but I couldn’t help but think that if he’d been with me, he wouldn’t have had a bad back!

And I’m now reading Colm Tóibín’s Nora Webster which I am enjoying. I’m about three-quarters of the way through.

Also, the other day, I received my T-shirt and paperback copy of the book Papercuts – which came through my Kickstarter funding. I have read a pdf copy of it but I will still read the print version. after all, the real book has got to be so much better. So that’s me set after Nora Webster.

Time Warp

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The whine by my ear and my futile attempt to bat it away wakes me up.

I look at the clock. It’s about 3. I thought it was later. I wished it were later.

I tuck myself into the bed. The bugger can’t get me now.

But, it’s far too hot. I just can’t sleep. I keep my eyes closed but I get hotter. I worry that, once again, I can’t bloody sleep. Of course, in addition, I have this fear that I’ll go to sleep and become so hot that I’ll automatically put my arms outside the bed and then the little bastard mosquito will get me. Minutes go by.

I hear the clocks strike 4. Surely, it can’t be four? I didn’t think I’d been to sleep and yet the hour seems to have passed too quickly.

I can’t get to sleep. I can’t stand the heat of the covers but I daren’t put my arms out. I just have to fit in one of the little tablets (or, rather two – one each side of the bed) so that the mosquito will go away or die. I get up. I fit the tablet things into the little holders and plug them in.

But then I have to wash my hands. This is really not helping. As long as I don’t wake up enough, I can get back to sleep but fitting the tablets, washing my hands and then going to the kitchen for a quick drink will probably make me too awake.

I try to get back to sleep. Already it’s half past four. Next it’s 5. It still seems I haven’t been asleep and yet half an hour seems to have raced by like 10 minutes!

But, now it’s nearly time for the alarm. I lie in bed, awake, like it seems I have been since around 3, my eyes closed, waiting for the alarm.

The alarm goes off. I put it on snooze for 5 minutes thinking that I may be able to snooze for 5 minutes and knowing that I’ll never be able to snooze for 5 minutes. It’s just wishful thinking. A minute before the alarm goes off again, I get up.

It is warm in the flat, even if almost all the windows are open with the shutters not quite down, so that the dogs can go out onto the balconies, where the normally sleep. I had put a pair of socks out the night before, thinking it would be a tad cold in the morning but it seems not. But, should I risk it or not?

Of course, my powers of deduction and rational, logical thinking are not good when I am still asleep. But, what the hell, it really is quite warm in the flat. I put on my short-sleeved shirt and my sandals (without socks, of course) and take the dogs out.

Even when we’re in the lift, I realise that I may have made a mistake. Whereas it’s not cold, this is 5.30 in the morning and it’s September – there’s a definite chill in the air.

We go outside. It’s too late to go back now. the dogs simply wouldn’t understand. I’ll survive.

The roads seem unusually busy. More like 7 or 8 o’clock than 5.30. I check some traffic lights that I can see in the distance. My mind struggles to compute that, if the orange lights are blinking then it has to be – what time? Well, before 6 for sure. At 6, they go back to normal operation.

But, as we reach the main road there’s a tram that’s quite full of people. How come, at this time in the morning?, I question. It seems strange.

Nothing about the night or this morning feels quite right. It’s as if there’s been some sort of time warp.