While the rest of the world is commenting on the Royal Wedding, I'm watching Simon Schama's A History of Britain. The last time I watched this, Alex was a baby and propped up in front of the tv while Simon told us both about King Charles II.
I'm determined to update this blog more regularly then once every couple of months. But not that much happens to me. I go to work. I spend time with the boys. Not exactly the stuff about which sagas can be made, unless they're very boring sagas.
I've spent the last two days re-reading Dune by Frank Herbert. I've read it many times, though not for years now; I got more out of it this time than ever before. Ah, bliss. Almost as good as a warm bath.
Meanwhile William the Bastard is being promised the throne by Edward the Confessor.
Let's leave politics to other heads, since my greatest plans for today involve ironing, dinner and going off to work. Maybe less ironing than the whole three baskets worth, and possibly a less ambitious dinner than roast beef with mini-yorkies; the going off to work will be the same.
I find myself very fractious at the moment. I'm not doing anywhere near the sort of writing I thought I would be doing or at least trying to do, but then I didn't really know what I was getting myself into with very long shifts. I'll get used to them - another six or twelve months. Sigh.
Harumph. I'd say more tomorrow, but I'm not sure about having anything else to say. Twirling onwards then.
