No Rest for the Wicked

Dear traveller,

Surely you are lost. The interwebs, wonderfully wibbly and wobbly though they may be, are like the world-renowned labyrinth that Dædalus constructed for king Minos and it is easy to click on the wrong link and end up lost in cyberspace. Since you are here now and I can’t help you find your way home, you might as well stay for some cake and listen to me talk about things that will not change your life in any meaningful way.

It is said, by people I don’t know, that there’s no rest for the wicked. I’m quite certain that this means I can spend the next two weeks resting because I can’t be classified as a wicked person; selfish, petty, mean and proud perhaps, but not wicked. I am officially on holiday and as a result I’m ridiculously happy. Very practical people (whose role on this planet I’ve yet to figure out) have tried to rain on my parade by pointing out the stack of work that I have to get done by the end of my holiday. These puddleglums don’t have to worry, though, because I’ve already come up with a plan to get my work done in time; it’s a plan so brilliant that you can put a pointy wizard’s hat on it and call it Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

When I am not doing my work or fending off irritating family members (who cannot bear to see me happy in any shape or form) with my imaginary kung-fu skills I will be reading. My reading list just keeps growing and growing, I spend more time haunting book stores than I spend reading it seems. At the moment I have three books that I’m focused on: The Song of Susannah by Stephen King, Odd Hours by Dean Koontz, my favourite fry cook who sees dead people’s fourth outing, and Elizabeth Kostova’s The Historian. I eventually have to get around to reading books I picked up at second hand bookstores some months ago, books like Peter Straub’s Koko (which Lady Leigh assures me is disturbing) and The Book of the Dead, a collection of horror stories that pay tribute to George Romero’s zombie movies. To add to my long reading list I went to this super cool bookstore called Boekehuis, which serves coffee in a beautiful garden when you feel thirsty after browsing their impressive selection of books, and bought a copy of Paul Auster’s The New York Trilogy. I read City of Glass (one of the three stories in the book) last year for literary theory, which totally blew my mind. Lady Leigh was kind enough to lend me her copy of book but I never got around to reading the other two stories so I just had to buy my own copy. Speaking of Mr Auster, I went and bought his friend, Don DeLillo’s Falling Man (which I read in English last year). To round up my reading list I bought Eats, Shoots and Leaves by Lynne Truss because the stickler inside of me decided that it’s time improve my punctuation and grammar – which is atrocious at best. The fact that the Apostrophe Protection Society (APS) wrote me a scathing letter concerning my misuse of the apostrophe didn’t dissuade me from buying the book either.