The joys of being past the bawling baby stage on the Eurostar. I could look at the couple with the toddler sprawled over the seat and the babe in a harness wrapped round the mother’s neck
And I could rejoice that I’d passed through that voyage. Every day seemed to be a trial to get through.
And now the bairns are older, there’s wistfulness that they’re no longer the little cuddly cuties of yore.
Essentially I must stop reading books that provoke the contemplative side. It’s not good for my health.
Have started reading The Time Traveller’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. Quite what brought me to purchase such a tome is beyond me.
Perhaps it was my future self that did it. Because it seems inconceivable that my past self would have had any yen for this kind of novel.
As far as I can make out by page 60, it’s a cross between Highlander and Back to The Future.
For all the action of the Highlander film, there was a loneliness to the character who watched friends and lovers grow old and die while he continued.
I sense the same is in the offing in this one.
I shall avoid reading it on the 1013 out of Paris and concentrate on more immediate things like the economic gloom enveloping Europe.