The merest effort at a blogpost today, or anything else for that matter. I've felt pretty lousy for week now and I gave completely in today by sleeping late and then reading all day. Nothing useful and edifying mind. Just Mary Stewart's My Brother Michael and Rose Cottage.
I've read them before. They're not my favorites by any means. There's still something soothing about a day spent rereading tales you've enjoyed before. You know the geography of the author's worlds, there's a sure and happy ending to be had and in Stewart's case the very language is enchanting.