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The Lilies

Wednesday 15th July, moist grey heavy weather, lot of heat in the sun when it breaks through. At the weekend, it was David and Christina's birthday party in Clapham, it must be the holidays. Today I cut down the Lilium Regale, that had to be in pots out at the front of the house because the pollen is poisonous to cats; they've been glorious in this their second year. We're packing for camping, we're off to Chamonix, and up to the refuge du lac blanc. Wonder what kind of weather we'll get. Blistering hot, thunderstorms, cold and icy with visibility near zero. According to the available forecasts, it could be anything. & so goodbye Grexit, see you after Green Man* (I do not believe the Greeks will accept the so-called deal, why the hell should they? And even if they do, this obviously isn't over). Goodbye the ever more desperate news from Fort Calais, our local hot spot in the global refugee crisis. Goodbye Fox-Hunting-Gate, wherever you may be leading us (anyone who believes Cameron doesn't want the Scots out of the union hasn't been paying attention. How else is he going to get rid of the humane majority that's knackering his plans? But that's some heavy medicine.) Goodbye Froomey, unless we catch up with you in Chamonix. Ginger is lounging on the hot patio, Milo looking for frogs to play with in the long wild weeds I call my Flower Meadow. I saw a female stickleback dart like silver wire, the male (still in his mating plumage? Is this normal?) peeping from under the lilypads. Goodbye wild fish, it's beautiful that you live with us. Goodbye cats, forgive us for our treachery.

One final note, I put up The Powerhouse for free sales at the beginning of June, and then forgot to advertise.But I also forgot to opt out of Kindle Select Unlimited (or whatever it calls itself, no earthly use to me except for giving ebooks away every now and then), so anyone who wants a free copy of The Powerhouse ebook should check the amazon sites 28th-July- 30th August. I could write a little more, but I have to go and look for the kettle's whistle, I may be back later . . .


Station Eleven Emily St John Mandel

Pandemic Apocalypse Lite. Rich White People in 21st century California think the world has ended because they can't dive into chlorinated swimming pools no more. Hm. And what happens at the end? Oh, I see, it's just like The Day After Tomorrow, that scene a couple of weeks after the Climate Change Apocalypse and some very moving human interest stuff, where all the New Yorkers are rescued from the tops of Manhattan's towers? The lights are on again! It was just a 20 year blip, business as usual can now reccomence!

I'm jaded. I'm sorry, I know this book has had a lot of praise. That's why I read it; I ate it, I eat bestsellers, even though I know exactly what happens in the kitchen of that restaurant. But this time I just don't get it.


Odyssey. Because it's in Bamako.

But from now on for a little while watching birds, flowers, skies and snow, and the white caps on the navy blue water of Lac Leman. Happy Birthday in advance to my brother in law Dave, and post-the-event to my brother David.