De cluttering a life isn't easy when there are so many books. On the floor, at the moment, they are three deep and piled against the mantelpiece, about fifty of them. One of these days I am going to have to go through my study and tidy it properly. I mean, its all nice and neat but if I wanted a particular book right now I would have no idea where to start the looking. But I guess it could all be worse. And what's more I have more to add, Murakami's 1Q84; Ondaatje's poetry collection, The Cinnamon Peeler; Miller's Snowdrops... oh sigh, the time, where do we get the time to read them all because there are others in the queue, Joss; Orbreht; Jospovici; Franzen... I guess I better get on with it, but first this because I have no energy for anything else. A small head cold is a trifle against the ills of others I know of - but it saps the energy, so this afternoon I will eat chicken soup (well turkey) and sit down on the chair featured in the picture (above - the one with the Mexican wedding blanket on it) to read a good book and maybe listen to this - I do like this song but I am a bit of a kloot, 'The Moon is a Blind Eye':
