Update General Literature.
Recently, during a lockdown here in the UK; that has gone on now for thirteen months; I found myself indulging and enjoying some light reading, namely “Farewell my Lovely” by Raymond Chandler.
Back in the incipient dawns of February 2020; when the world first began to comprehend the seriousness of the pandemic that lay before us, I had resolved to use the ensuing period of isolation in a positive manner; by undertaking what was and is, deemed by those more learned than myself, as “some serious reading.” More Shakespeare, Sir Thomas Wyatt, Old Testament, Byron, Chaucer & Marlowe; whose tome like works stretched out into unlimited horizons and unachievable targets.
Some progress was made in the early six months; but now resolve is dwindling, akin the prospect of the first gin and tonic after 40 days in the wilderness living on locusts and honey. There are after all, only so many ways one can consume a locust: gently simmered al dente, sauteed with garlic, en croute, flambe with French fries, en cocotte, curried with Scotch bonnet peppers or on toast.
So, Chandler came as something of a respite. Not as heavy as Gerard de Nerval, nor as meaningless as “Blonkity Blonk.”
And even though Chandler used words like “nigger” with carefree, non-political correct abandon, (having been written in 1935), it was a product of its time. A bit like Rabelais with his predilection to defecation, although to this date I have failed to understand the affinity.
In one weeks' time here in Glorious Albion, one can attain entry to a gym & a barbers. Thank God, as my extensive white beard is becoming a bit of a showstopper. I currently stride into my local supermarket like a commanding patriarch parting the Red Sea!! I hope, soon to get back to a facial cut more resemblant of Sean Connery as a submarine captain in “Red October.”
As for the gym, I can: pump my pecs, (man boobs actually), clench my glutes and gratifyingly observe nubile female devotees firming up their glutus maximus's.
Reading wise, as Chandler has proved such a boon, I might indeed dip into some Ed McBain. “He Who Hesitates.” might be a good starting point.
Happy Easter everyone.