exceptional spring days

Today I decided to forgo any things I thought I ought to do in the afternoon. I cast aside the serious book I have been reading (Memoirs of Hadrian, Marguerite Yourcenar). I rode my bike to the river and cracked open my latest (greatest?!) thrift store find: Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves, of P.G. Wodehouse's series. This is the first that I've read, though I've seen all the episodes of the BBC series. This book is written in what is certainly my ideal style of humor. Here, the third paragraph:

All had been verve, if that's the word I want, and animation.

Well, when I tell you that after sailing through a couple of

sausages like a tiger of the jungles tucking into its luncheon

coolie I was now, as indicated, about to tackle the toast and

marmalade, I fancy I need say no more.

For my second piece of evidence, item two:

In the matter of head-joy Jeeves is not in tune with modern

progressive thought, his attitude being best described,

perhaps, as hidebound, and right from the start I had been

asking myself what his reaction would be to the blue Alpine

hat with the pink feather in it which I had purchased in his

absense. Now I knew. I could see at a g. that he wanted no

piece of it.

I was laughing out loud, as others dozed around me. I don't think I disturbed the peace overmuch, though, and children-and-dog kept up at their stick throwing game undeterred.

Yesterday, too, was damn nice. I met with my friend Eva for some German/English butchering, and a walk. You'll see us both below, the pics are proof of the brightness of the day, and the stylishness of these oversized sunglasses. It's all you can find around here. What's to be done.

And, because I can't resist:

We exchanged significant glances. At least, I gave him a

significant glance, and he looked like a stuffed frog, his

habit when being discreet. He knows just how I'm situated

as regards M. Bassett, but naturally we don't discuss it except

by going into the sig-glance-stuffed-frog routine.