Well, many apologies for the lack of book reviews over the past few months. We have, after two years of trying, sold our house and moved to Cirencester (hurrah!!)
The move didn't go that smoothly (do they ever?) Firstly we had to be homeless for three weeks which involved caravan living and imposing on mum and dad and then when we did eventually move in we were faced with the hammer house of horrors. The place was filthy with an overgrown garden and half eaten food in the cupboards. The old owners had flea ridden cats and our poor two cats have gone through hell ever since. Despite treatment we are practically having to fumigate the house .. nightmare!
The house is a Victorian terrace, with victorian plumbing and electrics (it's not, it just seems like it) and there's so much to do that we've been constantly cleaning and swabbing down. My precious books have nearly all been put in the basement which is probably the safest place for them but I'm so behind with my reading that I'm getting quite grouchy about it.
I did read quite a few books during my sojourn in the caravan etc and so will post my shortened reviews.
Why do houses always look so much better on paper than they do in actuality? I wasn't expecting a Harrods hamper welcome but all they left was their dirt, food and hair in the plugholes (uggghh.) No note or anything, it's just not cricket!
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