Today I am officially crabby. The only possible walks to take the dogs on are 1) on a trail that's become a stream 2) through tall, non-mowed grass, walking through which is a little like being flayed with cat o'nine tails, and 3) mosquito and deerfly breeding grounds. We have had exactly 3 sunny days here in New England since May. Every day I wake up to clouds, or downright rain. I was flummoxed as to how to maintain a modicum of happiness, until I bethought myself of the solution: reading books set in the gloom of British summers. The Brits somehow manage to survive similar weather, while their wit downright flourishes.
So, this weekend, if you're looking like a wet week at Blackpool, get to your favorite bookstore or library, equip yourself with a good British novel, and hole up through the rain, thunder and lightning with it and a cup of tea. Some suggestions: The Sweetness At The Bottom Of The Pie, by Alan Bradley, Excellent Women or A Few Green Leaves,by Barbara Pym, anything Christie, ditto Dorothy Sayers. Although it's not a British book, The Shipping News by Annie Proulx has some great stormy, rainy weather, set in Newfoundland as it is. Stephen King's Bag of Bones also has a great, really long storm in it, too. Happy reading (and if you're inspired to write your own gloomy summer mystery, get to it)!
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