A Nice Cup Of Tea And A Book: Risk
I haven’t done one of these for a couple of weeks so I thought I’d make it extra special. This is not just A Nice Cup Of Tea And A Book, this is A Nice Cup Of Tea And A Lovely Scone With Some Jam And a Book
The scone: Fruit. The jam: Strawberry.
The book: Risk: [...]
A Nice Cup Of Tea And A Book: 1980
OK, so I lied. I said I’d need a break between 1977 and this, David Peace’s 1980.
It seems I didn’t.
I tried to take a break. I started two other books and gave up a dozen pages in. They were too light. My brain had grown accustomed to the distressing world of Peace’s Yorkshire and was [...]
A Nice Cup Of Tea And A Book: 1977
It’s grim up north*
At least it is in David Peace’s 1977. Bleak, gloomy and darker than closing your eyes at the bottom of an ocean where even those weird, ugly fish are scared to go.
Awful, terrible, beautiful darkness. Peace just won’t leave you alone. His words gnaw and eat at you and his story remains [...]
A Nice Cup Of Tea And A Book: No Country For Old Men
OK, so I’m the suggestible type. I read The Road last week and was taken by McCarthy’s slightly unusual prose style. I decided I’d like to read some more McCarthy and No Country For Old Men seemed like an easy next step.
Oddly enough, I’ve actually failed to catch the film yet so I went into [...]
A Nice Cup Of Tea And A Book: The Road
This one arrived today. Cormac McCarthy’s The Road.
I’m hoping to get to see the film next week – weather permitting – and I really wanted to read the book before I did.
The postie brought this at lunchtime and, bad father that I am, I bundled my daughter into the next room to rot her [...]
A Nice Cup Of Tea And A Book: The Death Of Bunny Munro
Who doesn’t like a nice cup of tea and a good book? As I quite like hearing about what others are reading, I (self-importantly, perhaps) thought I’d share the same information with you.
So then, I’ve just started The Death Of Bunny Munroe by Nick Cave. About a third of the way through at the moment [...]
Gerry Hayes
I mostly sit around all day and drink tea. Occassionally, I write stuff and send it to strangers so they can humiliate me and debase my efforts. Other than the self-harm to dull the shame of failure, it's not a bad life. Like I say, there's tea.
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