Returning

Mentally prepared for another three hour jam on the way back into Singapore, sailing through both sets of customs and arriving at the Mansion at a civilised hour set the icing on the cake of a great weekend. Seeing Mak back home, she having been released from hospital on Saturday, was the big bright burning candle thereon.

Also I must say I'm pleased to have left behind the hallucinatory but exhausting brilliance of One Hundred Years of Solitude. This time round I'd intended to keep track of all the Arcadios and Aurelianos, but it's just impossible. The trouble with these magic realist johnnies is that they've got so much energy, and it tends to be turned in on itself. I'm now parking myself in the soothing world of The Catcher in the Rye. I've got a recently acquired supervisee for an extended essay on this one and it suddenly occurred to me that having last read it around 1974 I might need to do some brushing up.

And it's good to have a super-sub just when you need one.