Coffee, books and Capaldi.

Hey Readers!

 You find me at midday, in a cafe and writing this post in a very old school way, a.k.a. on paper. Being up at my Granny's and having limited access to the internet has made me confront that fact that despite the short time I have done it, blogging really does play a large role in my life, and when it is withdrawn a resort to just making posts up in my head.

 I love spending a week with my Granny every summer (although this year looks like the last) purely for that I can go down into town (think stereotypical small, affluent, very middle class town on the Thames) for a hour or two by myself in the mornings. I always start in a small local cafe with a regular Americano, plus room for milk (the volume of which seems to vary every day [but at least they know my order now {which is such a good feeling}]) before moving onto the highstreet to poke about in the same old shops. Sometimes I will walk upon the Thames*.

 However this morning my routine was interrupted by a lack of reading material, which caused me to frequent the Oxfam bookshop. This is by far my favourite shop, and it would be a rare occasion indeed to find me leaving there without something (all Penguin books 99p – who could resist?). I was hoping to find "Brighton Rock" and "A Clockwork Orange" (In preparation for next year for next year may I add, I'm not some psychopath with a sick interest in rape [Dear Lord, what does that say about the school I'm going to next year though?]) as well as Cecily's leaving present (the name of which shall not be revealed for obvious reasons). I did leave with three books, however the only planned one was Cecily's present. Apparently they usually have the other two, but today they didn't (clearly this small middle class town is full of psychopaths who have a sick interest in rape). This meant I could enjoy some guilt free browsing and ended up with "The Grass is Sining" by Doris Lessing (just for the cover, books about racism and farming are usually not my thing) and a collection of poems called "Touchpiece" by Elizabeth Whyman. I am yet to read any of the poems, but I have started "The Grass is Singing". As Lessing's first novel, there is something immature and un-formed about her writing, that rather gives the lovely feeling she is across the table talking to me.

 To finish, I shall focus on the big news: Peter Capaldi is to be the new Doctor. I think this is a f****** brilliant decision and should bring some f****** darkness to the f****** show. I have also been lucky enough to see him live on the f****** stage in the Lady-f******-killers; he's a f****** fantsatic actor.

 Hopefully anyone f****** old enough to watch The F****** Thick of It will get my change in tone.

Gwendolen  

*Like Jesus, some may say.