In which my bookroom reveals itself to be, in fact, a sloth

At least two years ago we had a Hungry Caterpillar calendar. Full of inspiration I photographed every month's picture come year's end with full and firm intention of blogging monthly on my reading accomplishments. Sigh. Here I am just about managing to mark last month's end, and what spectacular accomplishments do I present?

"A Woman in Arms" by Russell Braddon: The story of Nancy Wake. This is a book written for older children. Just about my level of intellectual endeavour these days! I have actually been much struck by my need to reawaken the little grey cells. Last week I decided to inspire myself to spiritual creativity on the domestic front, and virtuously took The Hidden Art of Homemaking to bed. I managed two paragraphs before conceding that I have a concentration span worse than either of my suns. On a bad day. This discovery has not at all been much dissipated by my being on a twilight course for work this month. There is the prospect of an essay ahead. An essay! I haven't written one of those in...

I digress. Low concentration. Nancy Wake. This is a story that needs read in adult format. Far too much Enid Blyton cavorting in woods, admittedly with machine guns instead of ginger beer. She seems to have preferred copious amounts of champagne. I was conscious the whole time of a darker, grittier tale beneath. A woman in her twenties, leading thousands of French Resistance guerillas in the months following D-Day? Much more to be unearthed, if I only had the grey cells.

I found the story in our school library. Somehow I have had the glorious fortune to have been assigned to helping there two periods a week. One hour and twenty minutes of tidying the shelves in what is a quite superlative collection. So I'm afraid there may be more young adult books ahead!

Dealing with Iraq

Prince Charming is preaching tomorrow morning. I know. He's a busy boy. He is looking at Daniel, and at believers in the face of the fiery furnace. We've been gathering email addresses all day in an attempt to do something in the face of Iraq's furnace. There's a great article here.

I would like to think I could stand firm in my beliefs faced with danger to myself. But if someone came for the boys? PC's going with slips of email addresses for those who would like them, rather than impossible rhetorical questions.

Tonight I made Brownies from my latest Annabel Karmel book. There's a woman who has my culinary level. They are particularly fine with the caramel sauce. The boys loved them. I loved them too, and the Brownies.

Catch up on Views from Windows and Escalators!

Two weeks ago we had views from the bank barn. If you have time to spend in the English Lake District and are unafeared of tiny bestioles, stay here!

 Door opening straight onto Brackenrigg Fell.

Barn. Idyllic, except for midges. Sigh. The winnowing window is the one on the left above the door to one of the lower studios. The owl perch is the top one on the right.

Last Thursday we were in an extremely hot London for the day, so had views from Harrods' Egyptian escalator...

Views from the Natural History Museum, though you can see why we didn't pay much attention to the windows...

And views from that escalator that takes you journeying to the centre of the earth and out again. Possibly my highlight there. I made them go through twice. It wasn't that scary.

And yes, once again, a solo respite stroll round Liberty's, where windows, balconies, woodwork and all within amount to a hugely spiritual experience in the midst of an action-packed holiday with mighty men!

We're home again, so normal and utterly monotonous Views from the Suburbs will hopefully join Jane on Thursdays. Ang is also running a Thursday feature- based on Edith Schaeffer's Hidden Art of Homemaking. She has kindly lent me her precious copy, and I have carefully already had to wipe jam off the back cover- don't tell her.... Inspired by Ang's exhortation to artful food presentation, I Shaefferized today's lunch to hide the fact that it was just a Mother Hubbard melee of left-over picnic from Tatton Park on Tuesday.

And so to today's view. Lots and lots of holiday laundry thankfully on the line to dry.  Jo repeats incessantly, "It's so good to be home!" I can't quite concur with the same enthusiasm. We had such a fabulous time away. Thank you, Ang and Bob, for looking after us on our last leg, and making that homeward haul so much easier. Pictures will follow- as will the BP experience!