Im currently reading “I capture the Castle” by Dodi Smith (recommended to me by my colleague after I wouldn’t stop going on and on an on about Pride & Prejudice). I’m halfway through at the moment and have just about started to find the protagonist endearing rather than annoyingly analytical.
I read the following passage at about 3:30 am. I should probably say that rather then the book being so engrossing that I was up till the wee hours absorbing it, the book was actually keeping me entertained and distracted from the most horrible cough I have at the moment which has kept me awake for the past 3 nights in a row (yes, I think I may actually be asleep whilst typing this). By the by, my cough also happens to be causing me a huge amount of embarrassment on the tubes and trains to and from work as I go purple in the face from coughing, coughing, cough cough coughing. The silver lining here is that it means a lovely amount of space appears around me as people attempt to get as far away from me and my lurgie as possible. So, faking illness could actually be a handy tip for getting yourself some space on public transport in London. Anyway, I’ve completely gone off the point. Ok, just re-read the first sentence of this paragraph and now remember that I was supposed to be sharing with you a passage from the book I’m reading which now seems utterly inappropriate and pointless but oh well, I’ve invested the effort now so I may as well continue. So here you are:
“It suddenly seemed astonishing that people should meet especially to eat together – because food goes into the mouth and talk comes out.”
I found this quite an amusing analysis of a dinner party. The absurdity of an event being about 2 things that work in direct conflict of each other - talking and eating. Why not just meet to talk? I guess because people would get hungry. Well then why not meet after dinner? I guess because people love to show off their cooking skills (I also presume that everyone fears the effect of having a drink or 2 on an empty stomach).
In reality, I find dinner parties such a pleasure. I think this is because a) I love food b) I love people watching, even if I don’t particularly like the person c) my mum always tried to make sure that as a family we ate dinner together as often as possible. My mum likes long dinners, with lots of conversation and she is the slowest eater I’ve ever known. I guess this is the Dane in her. My dad (an Englishman) on the other hand, will sit to eat then leave the table once finished. Dinner is less of an event and more of a necessity in his eyes. I prefer it my mum’s way. I guess that’s the Dane in me.
So at 3:30 am this morning I was sat upright in bed night dreaming whilst awake of long, cosy dinners in Denmark.
I read the following passage at about 3:30 am. I should probably say that rather then the book being so engrossing that I was up till the wee hours absorbing it, the book was actually keeping me entertained and distracted from the most horrible cough I have at the moment which has kept me awake for the past 3 nights in a row (yes, I think I may actually be asleep whilst typing this). By the by, my cough also happens to be causing me a huge amount of embarrassment on the tubes and trains to and from work as I go purple in the face from coughing, coughing, cough cough coughing. The silver lining here is that it means a lovely amount of space appears around me as people attempt to get as far away from me and my lurgie as possible. So, faking illness could actually be a handy tip for getting yourself some space on public transport in London. Anyway, I’ve completely gone off the point. Ok, just re-read the first sentence of this paragraph and now remember that I was supposed to be sharing with you a passage from the book I’m reading which now seems utterly inappropriate and pointless but oh well, I’ve invested the effort now so I may as well continue. So here you are:
“It suddenly seemed astonishing that people should meet especially to eat together – because food goes into the mouth and talk comes out.”
I found this quite an amusing analysis of a dinner party. The absurdity of an event being about 2 things that work in direct conflict of each other - talking and eating. Why not just meet to talk? I guess because people would get hungry. Well then why not meet after dinner? I guess because people love to show off their cooking skills (I also presume that everyone fears the effect of having a drink or 2 on an empty stomach).
In reality, I find dinner parties such a pleasure. I think this is because a) I love food b) I love people watching, even if I don’t particularly like the person c) my mum always tried to make sure that as a family we ate dinner together as often as possible. My mum likes long dinners, with lots of conversation and she is the slowest eater I’ve ever known. I guess this is the Dane in her. My dad (an Englishman) on the other hand, will sit to eat then leave the table once finished. Dinner is less of an event and more of a necessity in his eyes. I prefer it my mum’s way. I guess that’s the Dane in me.
So at 3:30 am this morning I was sat upright in bed night dreaming whilst awake of long, cosy dinners in Denmark.
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