quietness

Today was a very old-fashioned day. I went shopping with my parents, to the library with my parents and will soon be having dinner with my first cousin and his family (first time I have had a chance to talk properly with them since my aunt died - very important dinner). Probably the quietest day this week. Maybe the quietest day this year.

Tomorrow will lead me back into overexcitement and by Wednesday I will be yearning for placidity again. Lunch with Wendy J Dunn and Glennice Whitting (an annual event) and then coffee with Davina McLeod and other Edit Zoners. My extra special treat is South Bank with my nieces where we will find ourselves dinner and generally pretend we are wildly sophisticated. Afterwards my sister is bringing cakes and things round and we are giving Mum an overdue birthday/mother's day treat (since life intervened rather radically on both occasions this year). If I don't enjoy tomorrow then I am irredeemably cloth-headed.

While I have the reading time, I am reading Kim Wilkins and Jennifer Fallon. The trouble with Kim Wilkins is that she looks like a larger version of Phryne Fisher and I have been reading Mum's Kerry Greenwoood all weekend. And the trouble with Jenny's novels is I keep wanting her to tell some of her family stories, and they just do not emerge: I might have to wait for the autobiography. Or forget that I have ever met her. Or something. Maybe the moral of the story is only to meet boring writers so that their personalities don't change what you want to see them writing.