I’m appalled by how long it’s been since I’ve updated this blog. So here goes.
Today I’ve been laid low with a miserable virus–sore throat, fever,
general pessimism about everything–so I’ve pretty much stayed in bed
and pulled the covers up over my head. The only good thing is that I
disentangled my laptop from its usual station and plugged in the
wireless card to see if there are any wireless connections hovering
around my sheets. And behold, there are. So I’m wired, in a manner of
speaking, from bed. I feel just like–hmm, who was it who wrote in bed
all the time? Besides Churchill, I mean!
Speaking of SIr Winston, I am deep into yet another book about him
called The Private Lives of Winston Churchill. It opens on a rather grim
note: of the Churchills’ five children, one died in childhood, 2 drank
themselves to death, and 1 committed suicide. The take-home lesson seems
to be that you can either save civilization or your own family, but not
Yesterday I also discovered there’s a Churchill bookshop here in New York! I didn’t get a chance to check it out yet, but plan to soon.
Back between the sheets for now, but I promise more and regularly, to come!