Books 2010

Books 2009

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Friday, 20 November 2009


Three cheers for Mr. Bagshaw too. Some feline cuddly self-indulgence is much needed on a windy November night.
I remember that we already met the terrible Growltiger last year and Dark Puss was a bit scared by him. Look here:
Compared to the fabulous Last Stand, the poem The Old Gumbie Cat sounds much more soothing, and soppy, and vapid, but that's just how this cat's life is.
Thank you again, we want definitely more of this!

Dark Puss loves these poems too, though you have chosen one of his least favourite to post here. I suspect DP sees himself as Macavity and others probably see him as Rum Tum Tugger.

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  • Nothing is of greater consolation to the author of a novel than the disovery of readings he had not conceived but which are then prompted by his readers. (Umberto Eco, Reflections on The Name of the Rose)
  • ... relatively few persons in London ... can afford the luxury of one or more servants. No fewer than 3,700,000 have no servants at all, and of the half million that have servants 227,000 have only one. (The Times, 6 June 1895)
  • Standing among savage scenery, the hotel offers stupendous revelations. There is a French widow in every bedroom, affording delightful prospects. (Tyrolean inn brochure, according to Gerard Hoffnung)
  • (A doctor is at an elderly relative's deathbed) "The old sawbones, eh?" he bellowed ... "Just in the nick, perhaps. Haul the old girl back by the short hairs, if you ask me. Devilish smart at his work ... Always take a fence with more confidence when I know he's out with us."
  • Too often, when a man of Monty Godkin's mental powers is plunged in thought, nothing happens at all. The machinery just whirs for a while, and that is the end of it. (P G Wodehouse, Heavy Weather)
  • ...the breed that take their pleasures as Saint Laurence took his grid (Kipling, The Five nations)

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