A short-notice Maternal Visit will be fun for the weekend, but meant that I spent yesterday evening tidying up and trying to make boxes disappear, which I could have done without. Youngest Sister is visiting next weekend. It all feels a bit hectic.
I have been reading Her Privates We by Frederick Manning, which is fascinating in that after eighty years or so of the Horrors of the Trenches, the muddy warfare bits no longer come across as particularly original or affecting. But the human observation and contemplation of character and existence, the ‘localness’ of the war the protagonist is fighting, and the depiction of social class and its influence on the conduct of the war remain brilliant. Unusually, the use of “phonetic” spelling to depict regional accents isn’t incredibly annoying, partly because – at least so far as the ones I am familiar with go – Manning gets the accents right, but mostly because he isn’t also patronising those characters in the narrative.
ETA: Can anyone recommend any places to visit, particularly gardens/landscape gardens, in the vague neighbourhood of Burford?