On The Trail Of Charles Sobhraj---The Pureness Of Evil And Friedrich Nietzsche
Without Prejudice
I have just finished a book that I thought I had read, always an excitement for me. I had loaned it to a friend and she gave it back with the comment,
" What a clever, devious man, he is unbelievable "
Years went by and yesterday I had nothing to read except a Mills and Boone which seemed a little ligh for my dour mood. Outside the rain was incessant, the wind high and I had a virus that left me exhausted. I have never coughed up so much mucus in my life.
I sent for the Doctor and he arrived some eight hours later, ( too bad if I was dying,) but I only felt like I was. Hot and cold fevers, shivering, sweats, coughing, ears blocked and an overwhelming desire to grab a gun, if I had one, and shoot myself in the head,
Nothing bottoms you out like a virus. I had the flu shot and was busy patting myself on the back as to how clever I was, the two week post jab time frame had passed and wasn't I a clever woman ?
I had spit up clear mucus so regularly and alarmingly I was convinced I at least had lung cancer and a vicious red nose bleed only added to my hypochondria. I felt like death warmed up. And I hate being inactive, so the thought of going to bed with a book was an anethema to me.
When had I last read a book ?
Too busy with emails and EBay and writing and Candy Crush, housework, yard work, helping out with my Grand Kids who needed " Nanny ", and as they are my main job I was more than happy to comply. My car called in to use to get them to school and appointments.
My daughters van has been out of action since her son borrowed it for a week, ten weeks ago. Enough said. He is a divine boy and a great worker but seems to have a curse on him when it comes to cars. It's hard to go off at him as he is such a sincere lad but to be honest there were moments after the 3rd car blew up that we just wanted to beat him with a large stick.
When his girlfriend asked if he could borrow mine I just went silent.
Gob smacked.
So I am sniffing, snuffling, coughing, hawking up alien stuff from my nose and the absent Doctor had at least rung and said to have Paracetemol, lots of fluid and rest. He would be a few hours.
I picked up The Life And Crimes Of Charles Sobrhaj. And retired groaning to my nice warm bed. Everything hurt, my shoulders, especially. I cried out if I had to turn over. My back hurt, my eyebrows, I swear even my hair hurt.
As I turned the pages I realised I had never read this book before. There was not one sentence that was familiar and yet I could have sworn I had read it back in the late Seventies when it was written. The very excellent Richard Neville and Julie Clarke had written it together.
To be continued.....
I have just finished a book that I thought I had read, always an excitement for me. I had loaned it to a friend and she gave it back with the comment,
" What a clever, devious man, he is unbelievable "
Years went by and yesterday I had nothing to read except a Mills and Boone which seemed a little ligh for my dour mood. Outside the rain was incessant, the wind high and I had a virus that left me exhausted. I have never coughed up so much mucus in my life.
I sent for the Doctor and he arrived some eight hours later, ( too bad if I was dying,) but I only felt like I was. Hot and cold fevers, shivering, sweats, coughing, ears blocked and an overwhelming desire to grab a gun, if I had one, and shoot myself in the head,
Nothing bottoms you out like a virus. I had the flu shot and was busy patting myself on the back as to how clever I was, the two week post jab time frame had passed and wasn't I a clever woman ?
I had spit up clear mucus so regularly and alarmingly I was convinced I at least had lung cancer and a vicious red nose bleed only added to my hypochondria. I felt like death warmed up. And I hate being inactive, so the thought of going to bed with a book was an anethema to me.
When had I last read a book ?
Too busy with emails and EBay and writing and Candy Crush, housework, yard work, helping out with my Grand Kids who needed " Nanny ", and as they are my main job I was more than happy to comply. My car called in to use to get them to school and appointments.
My daughters van has been out of action since her son borrowed it for a week, ten weeks ago. Enough said. He is a divine boy and a great worker but seems to have a curse on him when it comes to cars. It's hard to go off at him as he is such a sincere lad but to be honest there were moments after the 3rd car blew up that we just wanted to beat him with a large stick.
When his girlfriend asked if he could borrow mine I just went silent.
Gob smacked.
So I am sniffing, snuffling, coughing, hawking up alien stuff from my nose and the absent Doctor had at least rung and said to have Paracetemol, lots of fluid and rest. He would be a few hours.
I picked up The Life And Crimes Of Charles Sobrhaj. And retired groaning to my nice warm bed. Everything hurt, my shoulders, especially. I cried out if I had to turn over. My back hurt, my eyebrows, I swear even my hair hurt.
As I turned the pages I realised I had never read this book before. There was not one sentence that was familiar and yet I could have sworn I had read it back in the late Seventies when it was written. The very excellent Richard Neville and Julie Clarke had written it together.
To be continued.....
