A Very Phryne Time
What to do with a head cold? Fortunately I have the perfect solution! A couple of months ago I bought the late Kerry Greenwood’s last Phryne Fisher book. I opened it up a couple of weeks ago and fell down the Phryne Fisher rabbit hole. Murder in the Cathedral has inspired me to do a bit of a Phryne tour of Bendigo – who knew the old Shamrock Hotel had a snug? I wonder if it still exists? I absolutely love the idea of a snug. My husband is a great watcher of Grand Designs (despite the fact that we have the dreadful taps ever, awful kitchen tiles and the worst-placed kitchen sink of all time) and every time there’s a snug in one of the huge houses, I’m suffused in envy. A snug is definitely worth looking for – as is the cathedral, even though Kerry Greenwood, who always has excellent historical notes and bibliographies in all her Phryne books, says it’s no longer in use and has fallen into disrepair. I can definitely interest my Bendigo Sheep and Wool companions in a cocktail in the name of snug-hunting, but a derelict cathedral may be a step too far.
When I finished the book, I felt a little desolate. Surely, I thought, if this is the twenty-fifth Phryne Fisher book, I’ve not read all of them – so I did a quick search of the title and borrowed a stack from my local library. Just in time to get a cold. Thank goodness for Overdrive! There’s really nothing better than snuggling into bed with a stack of reading, cups of tea on demand and a dog who loves to laze. Add a view of the just-turning leaves on our copper beech and I can almost forget the runny nose, hacking cough and exhausted brain fog. Is this what retired life will be like? But the view from the window is disturbed by husband sweeping up leaves – so perhaps not! And, then around 5.30 shuffling noises from the kitchen indicate that people are on the prowl for signs of dinner. Given I have no Mrs Butler I have to think about the fridge-contents, don an apron and prepare dinner, no matter the stage of the murder investigation.
I’m also reading Anne Enright’s Actress – a more paced read. It’s a pleasure to take her writing slowly, savouring those turns of phrase. I have Wren tucked into my pile of library books as well. Thank god the world is full of books and writers. I can remember a time when if I developed a tickle in my throat I’d hightail it to the library and stock up. It’s more difficult to do that these days – libraries seem big on desk space but poor on actual books which have to be requested in advance. Fortunately I’d been in a requesting mood before this lurgy struck, so I’ve been able to luxuriate in a stack of riches.