vanessarama

It's been a quiet weekend with lots of knitting - I finished a shawl, although I've yet to block it so you can't see it yet. I failed to resist the siren song of naptime this afternoon, so now I'm wide awake.

On Friday I met tetsubinatu for the first time, with vissy and we discussed many Merlin-related things (and many things in general). It was a lot of fun; I'd forgotten about the innate coolness of just being able to comfortably rave on about fandom stuff with people who understand. Fandom FTW!

On the minus side, writing has slowed to a syrup-like trickle. It is still happening, just very slowly. I have a kinkmeme fic partway through and I'm determined to not leave it hanging.

Last week I bought two books on special which I think encapsulate the essence of me. They were 'The Letters of Ted Hughes' and 'The Maitland Double Headless Murders'. The latter is poorly written and disappointing - what is it with Australian true crime? There are so few good writers. The former is far more satisfying, especially since I have Sylvia's journals and letters as well. I feel enormous sympathy for Ted; I don't think either he or Sylvia were particularly easy people to live with. What startles me in these letters (apart from the occasional racism which is of-its-time and no less startling for that) is the palpable emotional connection he had with Sylvia, the care he took in his dealings with and about her, and the respect he quite clearly had for her throughout his entire life. It's a bit of a revelation. Surprising to realise that people used to write so much - although I suppose that people who don't have nine-to-five jobs and who write as their profession might have more reason and opportunity to write than the rest of us poor slobs.