Books 2010

Books 2009

« Doodling uphill with a Bang and a Bing and a Pong | Main | The Fashion in Shrouds »

Monday, 11 February 2008


I wish I could just say 'Bwing another' when I miss the train but I am definetely not a Victorian dandy!
For a 19th Century train experience on the continent, I recommend 'La bête humaine' by Emile Zola. And there is a black and white movie too.

To Dark Puss
Thank you for your previous bookish advice. I'll try to read 'Jennie' (and will tell you what later). A copy of 'Alice in Wonderland' is also awaiting its turn to be read. I am already partial and no doubt you will upgrade all these cats... but don't forget Dark Puss, when oily-ragged, wash!

Night Mail, great, just great. I have on video tape some of the other "educational" films about railways in Britain. How can one not love a film about the challenges of transporting Brussels Sprouts within the British Isles?

Oily-ragged cat

The comments to this entry are closed.


  • 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)

Photo Albums

Blog powered by Typepad