Fair blathered me, it did!

[caddyman]

It's just turned midnight as I begin to write. ellefurtle is abed - probably hidden under the covers and trying to get back to sleep as fast as her racing heart will let her. It's my fault, see.

She is reading a book called The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova.

She was tired and came up to The Tower a good half hour before me and started reading. After I'd finished watching telly I came up and poked my head in the semi-dark bedroom. It was my intention simply to wash my hands and splash a little cool water on my face. Young Furtle was already in bed, the book open next to her and her glasses tilted slightly; she had clearly dozed of whilst reading. I washed my hands and then stood for a moment watching her sleep.

This is where it all went wrong. I must have stood on the loose floorboard, which creaks rather splendidly, and Miss Furtle awoke. The first thing she saw, of course, was Yours Truly standing in the shadows. I daresay the adrenaline surge that made her jump in fright was amongst the strongest she'd ever had; she managed to scare the bejasus out of me, too. How, I ask you, was I supposed to know a) that her book was a retelling of the Dracula story and b) that having dozed off whilst reading, she was dreaming about it.

At least she didn't wet the bed.

I nearly did and I wasn't in it.

Today has been a good day. I booked a day's leave and we have pottered around doing as little or as much as we pleased at any point. We took a wander down to Finchley in the afternoon pretty much to pootle around - I came very close to buying a microwave oven (Gad, but I seem to be getting very domestic), but managed to spend the money instead on two tubs of Ben and Jerry's Apple Pie ice cream, a cushion for herself and 24 cans of coke. I shall spend the rest tomorrow on a TARDIS USB hub.

In addition to that frippery, the seven year old in my head, who refuses to acknowledge then passing of the past forty years, has just got a hold of my credit card and ordered the complete season 1 of Gerry Anderson's Captain Scarlet.

I'll never be rich.

I must read that book after Elle has finished with it. In the meantime, I will crack on with my copy of the excellent The Beatles: the biography by Bob Spitz, which was recommended by telemeister. An excellent read and very well researched, bizarre American spellings aside.

Right; a little more surfing and then to bed - provided I can manage that without scaring the living daylights out of Miss Furtle.

Comments

[mollpeartree.livejournal.com]

Once, when princeofcairo and I hadn't been living together very long, I mistook him for a burglar/rapist when he woke me up coming into the bedroom one night, and shrieked to wake the dead. The neighbors ... did nothing. Nice building!

That must be a pretty good Dracula book.