Thirty-three

Another wet day and really quite cool this afternoon but I don't think we have remotely felt the force of Storm Antoni. I went into Lancaster for a wander this morning, visited a favourite shop but made no purchases. I was a bit distracted by warning lights having come up on the car which will need to be checked out before I head back east. Dad made a phone call and we'll take the car to a garage on Monday with fingers crossed that they can sort it. 

The rest of the day has largely been spent reading my latest book, I was only about half way through this morning. Written by a favourite author who has turned to historical fiction in her last two books; I think I preferred her contemporary fiction. I found this one a bit heavy going at first but it did become compelling in its final quarter and I enjoyed her levels of description throughout, including this point where the 15 year old bride (the real Lucrezia de Medici was just 13)  is dressed for her wedding: "The gown rustles and slides around her, speaking a glossolalia all of its own, the silk moving against the rougher nap of the underskirts, the bone supports of the bodice straining and squealing against their coverings, the cuffs scuffing and chafing the skin of her wrists, the stiffened collar hooking and nibbling at her nape, the hip supports creaking like the rigging of a ship. It is a symphony, an orchestra of fabrics..." and in a dress made for her sister who died before she could marry Lucrezia's soon-to-be husband.  Add a link to 'My Last Duchess', the use of a new word - 'uxoricide' - the killing of one's wife and it's all fairly doom-laden. I think I'll aim for something a bit more light-hearted for number thirty-four.