THE BUSH FIRES WHICH RAGED THROUGH SOUTHERN AUSTRALIA HAVE CLAIMED MANY LIVES, my heart goes out to all who have lost loved ones, friends and colleagues as well as their homes, pets, livestock and possessions. There is so little we in the UK can do to help, but this is a step in that direction: Victorian Bushfire Appeal








READING:

I am fascinated by local history and although I have never lived in the East End of London, for many years I sat as a magistrate in Bow, and like thousands of others I have flown in and out of London City Airport several times, so the area is not completely unfamiliar to me, but my knowledge was patchy to say the least.

Recently a friend recommended I read Silvertown: An East End Family Memoir by Melanie McGrath, and what a wonderful book it turned out to be.

Written almost as though it were a novel, the author documents the lives of her maternal grandparents, particularly her grandmother Jenny Page, who lived and worked in Poplar and Silvertown from the start of the 20^th century. The reader is transported to a way of life now gone, to a part of London that has changed so much that it is virtually unrecognisable. That part of east London was dominated by the huge docks along the northern edge of the Thames. In those days London was one of the greatest shipping ports in the world. Cargoes and people arrived from every part of the British Empire and beyond; manufactured goods were sent down to London and exported to all points of the compass. The area was a hive of activity, with a vibrant cockney culture, and the story of Jenny and Len Page covers the heyday, decline and eventual extinction of the docklands community.

I became totally absorbed by their life and times: the horror of Jenny having all her teeth pulled out by a local butcher when she was 17 to avoid future dental expenses; the terror of the Blitz when night after night the East End was pounded with bombs and incendiaries, and thousands were killed; and the seemingly bizarre medical treatment of TB which was a common disease in those days. All the life of the East End flows through the pages of the book, the crime, the scams, the unthinking xenophobia and anti-semitism, nights out at the dog tracks, the hunger in childhood and during the two wars, and the struggle to keep up appearances.

Jenny Page’s life began when women wore corsets, horses pulled hackney carriages, and most streets were unlit. To be an East Ender then was to be among the lowest of London’s poor, and yet she never thought of herself as low. She died aged 91, a tiny woman with no teeth who had borne two children but had never seen a naked man; a woman who had been born in London but had never visited the Tower or St.Paul’s. An unlikely heroine, very ordinary and yet totally compelling. A true Londoner.

Rated 5*

RANTING:

Babies have been hitting the headlines in no uncertain terms just recently, and none of the headlines have been doing my blood pressure any good.
The photograph, prominently published in all the newspapers, of the 13 year old boy beside the baby he has apparently fathered (and I have my doubts about whether he is in fact the father and so have others) has triggered some very extreme reactions from the British Public. Some think that the lad should be arrested by the Police charged with statutory rape and severely punished (in Britain it is a criminal offence to have sex with a girl who is under sixteen), some feel that this proves that the whole country is going to hell in a handbasket, and others seem to think that with supporting parents' support it will all be okay in the end. I hope it is, but I am not holding my breath.
My first reaction when I saw the photographs was to feel very sad for the baby who may well end up in care, and sad for the boy and girl neither of whom seem to realise the magnitude of bringing a child into the world. The sadness was then overwhelmed with anger; anger at the parents of both boy and girl - who had let this whole thing happen by not exercising proper parental care and control of their children and then sold the story to the tabloid press; anger at The Sun newspaper for cynically using two vulnerable youngsters in the most sensationalist way in order to boost circulation figures; anger at the wishy-washy attitude to proper and appropriate sex education in this country which could help prevent such situations, and finally, anger that yet again we taxpayers will have to pick up the costs.

How on earth do we start explaining to children why they should wait until they are grown up before they have children of their own? There is a wonderful children's book called Flour Babies by Anne Fine. It is about a class of 10 year old boys who take part in a science project. They are each given a 3Kg bag of flour and are told that for the next three weeks they must treat it exactly as if it were a real live baby. They are given a set of rules:

1) The flour babies must be kept clean and dry at all times. All fraying, staining and leakage of stuffing will be taken very seriously indeed.

2) Flour babies will be put on the official scales twice a week to check for any weight loss that might indicate casual neglect or maltreatment, or any weight gain that might indicate tampering or damp.

3) No flour baby may be left unattended at any time, night or day. If you must be out of sight of your flour baby, even for a short time, a responsible babysitter must be arranged.

4) You must keep a Baby Book, and write in it daily. Each entry should be no shorter than three full sentences, and no longer than five pages.

5) Certain persons (who shall not be named until the experiment is over) shall make it their business to check on the welfare of the flour babies and the keeping of the above rules. These people may be parents, other pupils, or members of the staff or the public.

The boys quickly learn just how much hard work it is looking after a baby, and how being responsible for one changes your life, you are no longer free to do as you please.

What a pity that coupled with some basic sex education, all children are not made to look after a flour baby.

And as for that woman in California who, with no income of her own and six children under the age of seven, deliberately goes and has eight embryos, conceived by IVF, implanted....don't get me started, I might explode.

RECIPE:

Every year I make something edible to give people as a Christmas gift, and last year it was these crunchy cucumber pickles. They proved so popular I have had several requests for more, so yesterday I set about making another batch. In these financially straightened times, a simple Ploughman's Lunch is an inexpensive way of feeding guests on a Saturday, and these add a touch of class when served in place of the commercially produced brown pickles or dubious chutneys. For those who don't live in the UK, I should explain that a Ploughman's (as it is usually called) is a platter of fresh bread or a crusty roll, a lump of cheese - usually Stilton or Cheddar - some chutney or pickle, and an apple, washed down with a mug of beer. It is served in pubs up and down the land, and the quality is VERY variable They are also delicious in sandwiches and with hamburgers, and are simplicity itself to make.

CREDIT CRUNCHY PICKLES

This will make about 1.5kg

Prepare several glass jars by washing in hot soapy water, rinsing in hot water and drying in the oven at 100°C.

900g small cucumbers
2 smallish onions
50g salt
350ml cider vinegar
350g granulated sugar
2 tablespoons yellow mustard seeds
2 teaspoons celery seeds
½ teaspoon ground turmeric
½ teaspoon black peppercorns


Cut the cucumbers into 5mm slices.
Halve and finely slice the onions.
Place the cucumber slices and onion into a large bowl.
Add the salt and mix well so that all the vegetables are covered with salt.
Place a plate inside the bowl, pressing down on the cucumber mixture (I weigh the plate down with another bowl containing two or three tins of food) so that it is really compressed. Leave it for 3 hours.
After that time there will be a lot of liquid in the bowl. Drain it off, and rinse the cucumber and onions under cold running water, drain again.
Put the vinegar, sugar, mustard seeds, celery seeds, turmeric and peppercorns into a large saucepan or casserole (do not use aluminium or copper pans for this recipe).
Bring to the boil, stirring with a wooden spoon to help dissolve the sugar.
Add the drained cucumber and onions; as soon as the mixture comes to the boil again, rremove the pan from the heat.
Spoon the pickle into the warm, prepared jars, making sure the vegetables are covered with the liquid.
Cover with airtight, vinegar-proof lids and store for at least 1 month before using.

THE AGEING PROCESS HAS YOU FIRMLY IN ITS GRASP IF YOU NEVER GET THE URGE TO THROW A SNOWBALL.

READING:

Nicole Mones is an American who lived and worked in the textile business in China for 18 years, and she really knows the country and all its contradictions very well indeed. In her latest book, The Last Chinese Chef, she has entwined a modern love story with the story of China’s culinary culture.

Maggie McEllroy is an American food writer approaching her fortieth birthday when her husband is tragically killed. For many months she is overwhelmed by grief and unable to function properly, and when she is contacted by the law firm for whom her husband had worked to say that a paternity case has been lodged against his estate, on behalf of a five year old child in China, she is even more devastated. She is asked to go to Beijing to sort things out. The editor of the gourmet food magazine for whom she writes urges her to go, and commissions a series of articles on food in modern China.

The Beijing Olympics are looming, and the authorities in China have decided to hold a competition to choose the very best chefs to be part of the national cooking team over the Olympic celebrations. Thus it is that Maggie meets Sam Liang a Chinese/American chef who is last in a family line of famous chefs dating back to the days of the Imperial Court. His father had fled China during the Cultural Revolution and ended up in the USA.

Over a few weeks Maggie and Sam fall in love; and as Sam prepares to cook for the banquet of a lifetime, both Maggie and the reader learn about the place food holds in China’s history, its gastronomic philosophy, and how fine cuisine can be elevated to an art form.

To do this, the author has used the device of a book-within-a-book. Each chapter starts with a quotation from 'The Last Chinese Chef' purportedly published in 1925 by Liang Wei, Sam's grandfather - the opening chapter begins with:

"Apprentices have asked me, what is the most exalted peak of cuisine? Is it the freshest ingredients, the most complex flavours? Is it the rustic, or the rare? The peak is neither eating nor cooking, but the giving and sharing of food. Great food should never be taken alone. What pleasure can a man take in fine cuisine unless he invites cherished friends, counts the days until the banquet, and composes an anticipatory poem for his letter of invitation?"

Over the years I have eaten many meals in China, but it was only from reading this book that I began to grasp some of the ancient thinking behind the various styles of cooking and the choice of foods that I have been served.

The book is a must for anyone who enjoys Chinese food, or is interested in China.

Rated: 5*

RANTING:

I can't remember how old I was when I first learnt the old sea shanty "What Shall we do with the Drunken Sailor?" though I do remember singing it at primary school in Africa. It was also in the family repetoire of songs that we sang to relieve the boredom of long dusty car journeys. However, some dim spark at Bookstart the UK charity which "aims to provide a free pack of books to every baby in the UK, to inspire, stimulate and create a love of reading that will give children a flying start in life", has decided that the song is not suitable for children.

In addition to supplying books, they also organise Bookstart Rhymetimes at local venues such as libraries. These are regular get-togethers for parents, babies and toddlers to sing songs and rhymes. In the Bookstart song sheet, the words "Drunken Sailor" have been replaced with the words "Grumpy Pirate" - removing any references to alcohol, presumably because the idea of a drunken sailor is just too inappropriate whereas grumpy pirates - like the murderous Somalis who have been terrorising the coast of east Africa, capturing oil tankers, container ships and the like - are considered acceptable. Of course, once you remove drunken sailors from the song you have to remove all the follow-on lines . "Put him in the brig until he's sober...Give him a hair of the dog that bit him...Hoist him to the yardarm with a running bowline" and my favourite, "Shave his belly with a rusty razor" are all too violent for the little darlings to lisp.

Therefore they have been replaced with lines such as "Tickle him till he starts to giggle" and "Do a little jig and make him smile". What the hell is this bowdlerised rubbish?
Sea shanties are part of the heritage of a maritime nation, we will be a nation of lily-livered wimps if this sort of PC nonsense continues.
I'd like to get the Bookstart censor then I'd Shiver his Timbers.

Heave Ho and up he rises, Heave Ho and up he rises Heave Ho and up he rises Early in the morning! Scratch his back with a Cat-o'-nine-tails Early in the morning!


RECIPE:

After reading Nicole Mones book (see above) I felt I should make something Chinese, but with the cold snowy weather we're having I fancied something a little more substantial than a quick stir fry. This dish is a classic in China, I should think every household has their own variant of the recipe, in fact I have at least four versions , this one is taken from Fuchsia Dunlop's book Sichuan Cookery, slightly tweeked by me. It is a particularly apposite dish to make at the moment, as the sainted Jamie Oliver is on TV these days banging on about eating British pork and particularly encouraging people to use the cheaper cuts such as belly.

HONG SHAO ROU - Red Braised Pork

Serves 2 as a main course, or 4 with two or three other dishes as part of a Chinese meal.
This re-heats very well on the second or third day, so can be made in advance.


500g streaky belly pork with skin on
Large piece of fresh ginger, unpeeled
2 spring onions
3 tablespoons sunflower oil or similar (NOT olive oil)
500ml chicken or vegetable stock
1 tablespoon dark soy sauce
2 tablespoons Shaoxing wine (if you don't have this you can substitute dry sherry)
Half teaspoon salt
3 heaped tablespoons soft brown sugar
1 whole star anise
1 piece cassia bark (or use half a cinnamon stick)

Bring a large pan of water to the boil; when boiling, put the pork belly in and cook for 3-4 minutes then remove to a chopping board. After a minute or two, when cool enough to handle, cut the pork into 3-4cm chunks making sure that each piece has a layer of skin and a mixture of meat and fat. Use something heavy to slightly crush the piece of ginger, then cut the spring onions into 3 or 4 pieces. In a flameproof casserole, heat the oil until it is almost smoking and then add the pork chunks (take care to stand back as you do this as the hot oil tends to spit out at you) and stir fry them for a few moments before adding the stock, sugar, soy sauce, wine, salt and spices. Stir together and bring to the boil. Simmer, half-covered, over very low heat for about two hours, stirring now and then to prevent it sticking. The meat should become a reddish brown and very tender, and the sauce reduce by half and be dark and glossy.
Serve with plain steamed or boiled rice, and garnish with finely chopped spring onion.

TODAY IS THE START OF CHINESE NEW YEAR, THE YEAR OF THE OX.
I have been told that people born in the Year of the Ox are: responsible, dependable, honest, caring, honourable, intelligent, artistic, industrious and practical.
However, they are also: petty, inflexible, possessive, dogmatic, gullible, stubborn, critical, intolerant and materialistic.

If you were born between February and the following January in the years 1925, 1937, 1949, 1961, 1973,1985 or 1997 you're an Ox.

READING:

Last week I picked up a copy of A Poisoned Mind by Natasha Cooper from the new books shelf in Highgate Literary and Scientific Institution library. Even though I have a huge pile of books waiting to be read, something about this one made me get stuck in straight away, and I was immediately hooked.

On the cover there is a comment from a renowned crime writer describing the book as one of the best legal thrillers she’d ever read, and I would agree.

The story opens on a failing Northumberland farm, where a company called Clean World Waste Management have leased some land as a site for two chemical waste disposal tanks. The tanks blow up causing a conflagration in which the farmer is killed and the surrounding farmland is polluted.

Angie, the farmer’s widow, aided by members of an environmental pressure group, is taking the corporate giant to court in an attempt to get proper compensation.

Trish Maguire QC, whose sympathies lie with the widow, finds herself having to set aside personal feelings as she has to represent Clean World Waste Management. As the trial proceeds she begins to wonder what exactly has been going on, the eco-hippies who are supporting Angie may have a hidden agenda – not all do-gooders are truthful it would seem.

At the same time, Trish is coping with a troubling friendship between her teenage brother David (for whom she and her husband are responsible), and Jay, a schoolmate he keeps bringing home, who comes from a dysfunctional and abusive family.

Which situation is more poisonous, the chemical waste explosion, or the alcohol and drug fuelled lives of Jay’s family?

I had never come across Natasha Cooper’s books featuring Trish Maguire before, but joy of joys there are another eight for me to read – A Poisoned Mind is the latest – so I intend to read them in order so that I can follow Trish’s progression up the legal career ladder. She is a heroine I took to immediately, intelligent, feisty, professional and very real.

What a treat I have in store.

Rated: 4.5


RANTING:

If a colleague, friend, relative or loved one died in police custody, whilst serving in the armed forces, or when accidentally hit by an emergency vehicle you would probably want to attend the inquest to find out how and why they died, and who was responsible.

Citizens would be deprived of this right if this government has its way.

Last year the clause in the Counter-terrorism Act which would have allowed some inquests to be held in private was dropped, following fierce opposition from all sides. However the proposals have been included in the legislation covering Coroners Courts which has just been introduced to Parliament.

The plan is to have juries, families, and the press excluded from some inquests which would be held in secret with hand-picked coroners, on the grounds of – you guessed it – ‘national security’. I’ll bet that they will use it whenever some death might be going to be an embarrassment, or an inquest might point a finger at the failings of government departments

The whole idea of secrecy in trials or inquests makes my blood run cold – it smacks of Stalinist Russia, and of the old apartheid regime in South Africa.

Why is this Labour government so hell bent on getting this clause on to the statute books?

Yet again they are chopping away at hard won liberties which once kept this country a beacon of freedom and democracy. We must not let these rights be whittled away one by one.

RECIPE:

This dish is a hybrid, not quite a fritatta, not quite a Spanish omlette, a bit like a quiche without a pastry crust. It takes hardly any time to make and is a great meal served with a salad, stretching two salmon fillets to feed four people.

SALMON ‘n EGGS

Serves 4

8 large eggs

2 fillets salmon (300-400g)

Juice of half a lemon

8 spring onions

2 tablespoons chopped coriander

Salt & pepper

1 tablespoon (approx) butter

2 tablespoons corn oil

Pre-heat the grill.

Cut the salmon fillets into smallish dice.

Finely slice the spring onions.

Beat the eggs until slightly frothy, season sparingly with salt and pepper.

Heat the butter and oil in a medium sized frying pan, and when hot add the salmon pieces and drizzle the lemon juice over them. Stir over a gentle heat until the salmon has changed colour and is nearly cooked through, then tip in the eggs, the chopped coriander and the spring onions. Using a wooden spatula, gently mix everything together. Then let it cook for about a minute. Lift the edges gently with the spatula to let any runny egg seep downwards before placing the frying pan under the pre-heated grill for a couple of minutes to allow the eggs to firm up and brown very slightly on top.

Cut into four wedges and serve garnished with coriander leaves. A side salad of tomato, cucumber and lettuce with a tangy dressing is perfect with this dish.

A Word to Husbands:

To keep your marriage brimming
With love in the loving cup,
Whenever you're wrong admit it;
Whenever you're right, shut up.

Ogden Nash


READING:

Simon Sebag Montefiore has written two highly acclaimed non-fiction books about Joseph Stalin, as well as several other books about aspects of Russia’s history. Sashenka is his first foray into the world of fiction, and he makes good use of his specialist knowledge. He has divided the book into three sections, covering the story of one family through the huge changes in Russia from 1916 up to the present day. As a result of reading it I am determined to read more about this period of history.

When the story begins Sashenka Zeitlin is the sixteen year old daughter of an immensely rich, well connected Jewish family who live in St Petersburg. Her father, who bought his title, is a hypochondriac banker with a more than passing interest in Sashenka’s governess; her mother is entirely given over to self-indulgence, mixing with Rasputin and other debauched friends, drinking and taking drugs at parties every night. Her elderly orthodox Jewish grandparents who have left the shtetl and now live in the rear of the huge Zeitlin mansion, make everyone feel uncomfortable with their old fashioned, religious way of living.

Sashenka has been heavily influenced by her maternal uncle who is a Bolshevik trying to bring down the Tsar. Like many young people she feels the Tsarist regime is unjust and is convinced that by becoming a revolutionary she can help bring about a new, fairer Russia. She seems impervious to what such revolution would do to her family and thousands of others. She becomes more and more involved in the underground movement of Bolsheviks and after the storming of the Winter Palace and the abdication of the Tsar she is given a job at the headquarters of the Central Committee working for Lenin, Mendel, Stalin and the other leaders.

By 1939 Sashenka is living a privileged life in Moscow with a wonderful apartment, servants, American cars and domestic equipment and a country dacha in an area of natural beauty reserved for the top comrades. Married to Vanya Palitsyn who has an important job for the Politburo, she has a young son and daughter. She is working as editor of a magazine called “Soviet Wife and Proletarian Housekeeping”, and she and her husband socialize regularly with Stalin, Beria and the other leaders. The country has just gone through a year of "purges" when Stalin had thousands of Soviet party members eliminated. Sashenka and her husband seem completely blind to the violent corruption at the heart of the regime.

“The cleansing of the Party had been a brutal and bloody process. Many had failed the test and fallen by the wayside, sentenced to death…Some of Sashenka’s oldest friends and acquaintances had turned out to be traitors, spies and Trotskyites. She had never realised so many of them wore masks, pretending to be good Communists while actually being Fascists, saboteurs and traitors. With so many comrades vanishing into the ‘meat grinder’ as it was known, Sashenka had, like all her friends, culled their photos from the family photograph albums, scratching out their faces.”

Eventually, the regime turns on her too, and she wakes up to the monster she has helped to create. At that moment she has only one desire, to save her children. And with the help of others she manages to get them spirited out of Moscow to a new life elsewhere, just before she is arrested by the NKVD (latterly known as the KGB).

The third and final part of the book brings the reader up to date. A wealthy Russian oligarch living in London hires a young historian to research his mother’s family background. She has to overcome much bureaucratic resistance and blatant corruption in order to be able to delve through the Soviet archives, and in so doing eventually uncovers what happened to Sashenka’s two children.

I felt the book really only hit its stride when it got to the second part, and from then on I was gripped, not by Sashenka herself or what happened to her, but by how thousands of intelligent, well-meaning people could allow one man to gain so much power and develop such a regime without them seeing where it was heading. In the final part of the book, Montefiore paints a picture of a country which is still evolving, and frighteningly seems just as vulnerable to totalitarianism and dictatorship as it was in the 1920s.

Rated 4*

RANTING:

When I was young the term “Indian Giver” was one of opprobrium – although I suspect that it is no longer politically correct and I could be hauled over the coals for using it. Everyone knew what was meant by the phrase.

Like most other parents I had to adjudicate when one or other of my kids, having given something to their sibling, or to a friend, then had a major falling-out and demanded that whatever they had given them be given back. It had to be explained that when something was GIVEN to someone, not LENT to them, that it then it became theirs and the giver no longer owned it or had rights over it. Sure this could be very vexing when at a later time (be it hours, days, weeks) the recipient and the giver had a bust-up, but learning this lesson is part of growing up.

Someone obviously never taught this to Dr Richard Batista, who donated a kidney to his wife Dawnell some years ago. The couple have now divorced, and Dr Batista has demanded his kidney back (or $1.5 million compensation) because she has left him and taken the kids with her. This is obviously not what could be described as an amicable separation.

The lawyer advising Dr Batista in his claim can't have mugged up on her Shakespeare. In The Merchant of Venice I seem to remember Shylock got himself into a bit of a legal quandary when demanding his pound of flesh. The point being that though in law he could have the flesh, he couldn’t have any blood, and you couldn’t take the flesh without the blood. Presumably Dawnell Batista’s lawyer could follow the same line and say 'have the kidney back by all means but if you take a single drop of my client’s blood we’ll sue the pants off you.'

Actually its all moot, the kidney was GIVEN to Mrs Batista, it is now HER kidney.

Thank the lord that the brief and acrimonious marriage and divorce of Sir Paul McCartney and Heather Mills didn’t involve any organ donations - can you imagine the headlines then?

The moral of the story is: Think before giving, because once it's given it's gone.

RECIPE:

Given my rant, I did consider posting a recipe for devilled kidneys - but then thought that might be a little tasteless (ha ha)! Anyway, the first days of January always seem to demand warm, filling, inexpensive food so I decided to actually write down the recipe for a soup I make fairly often at this time of year. Its real comfort food, and I make it by instinct so I had to stop and note down quantities as I made this latest batch. It freezes well, and with bread and cheese and a piece of fruit is a perfect lunch or supper.

GOLDEN WINTER VEGETABLE SOUP

Serves 6

1 medium swede

2 large carrots

2 medium potatoes

2 sticks celery

1 medium sweet potato

1 leek

1 medium onion

1 tablespoon butter

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 Bay leaf

½ teaspoon dried thyme

Salt & pepper

Water

Finely chop the onion; scrape the carrots, peel sweet potato, potato and swede, and cut all of them into small even dice. De-string the celery and cut it into pieces to match the vegetables in size. Remove any tough outer leaves from the leek, quarter it lengthwise and then cut across into small pieces.

Put the butter and oil into a large pan and heat gently until the butter has melted. Add the chopped onion and fry gently until it is transparent but not browned. Add all the other vegetables and cook for 5 -10 minutes over medium heat stirring regularly. Add enough water to just cover the vegetables, add the bay leaf and thyme and bring up to simmering point. Simmer gently for 15-20 minutes until the vegetables are soft, add about 500ml water and bring back to a simmer, cover and cook for about 10 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Garnish with chopped parsley and serve with crusty brown bread and butter.

I'M BACK !!!!
And wishing a belated Happy New Year to you all.

I snitched this Peanuts take on New Year from fellow book blogger Sam Huston of Book Chase - thanks Sam - because just at the moment Lucy sums up my feelings exactly!

Before normal blogging resumes, my thanks to all who have emailed or phoned to ask why I have not been posting on the blog, particularly BFNorwich who made me feel that I needed to get my arse back in gear. I think a few words of explanation are needed - our trip to China was extended for a couple of weeks and became ever more hectic, so we didn't get back to the UK until late November. Almost as soon as I stepped off the plane in London I came down with a horrible chesty cold, and just as I was on the mend and contemplating everything that had to be done to prepare for a large family Christmas, I was hit with this ghastly flu that seems to have been cutting a swathe through the population. Apparently it has been designated 'Brisbane Flu' but DDF has just been out in Oz for the festive season and he never mentioned it being a big issue there. Wherever this particularly nasty virus - illustrated below - came from, it has taken ages to throw it off and I must admit to feeling pretty washed out.
Lets hope we all have a healthier year ahead.

Now for a few statistics:

WHAT I READ IN 2008:

• Total Books read: 144
• Non-fiction: 18
• Biography: 5
  
• Crime/mystery/thriller: 26
• Male authors: 58
• Female authors: 86
• Books translated into English 11

Definately room for improvement : must blog about more of the books I'm reading, must read more non English-speaking authors, must read more non-fiction.