There must be a lot of shrews about. Marlowe keeps catching them. He carried the last one in wrapped up in a bunch of leaves. At first I thought that leaves was all there was and then I saw the sad little tail poking out.
I've been reading Conan Doyle's Wanderings of A Spritualist. It's the record of his trip to the Southern hemisphere to spread the word about the afterlife. It's not all about spiritualism, though. He goes off at all sorts of tangents- reflections on the Great War and contemporary politics and cricket and local scenery and snakes and possums and how Australian railway sleeping compartments are better than American ones but not as good as British ones. He prophesies a great future for the Australian wine industry (spot on) and says W.B.Maxwell (who?) is the greatest living novelist (not so spot on.) You'd think, being such an all round sportsman, he'd enjoy horse-racing but he hates gambling so he doesn't (and slopes off to the beach with his kids to avoid the Melbourne Cup.) He thinks boxing is ennobling but hates the promiscuous shooting of game birds. Everywhere he goes he draws enormous crowds- and opposition from Catholic bishops, Anglican ritualists and loudmouth evangelical preachers- but gets his own back when they turn up dead at his seances going, "I was told I'd meet Jesus here and I haven't. Waah!" Spiritualism was on the crest of a wave back in 1920- and seemed like an unstoppable force- so what exactly went wrong?
We were in Bexhill yesterday. I needed to go buy more watercolour paper and we've found a shop there that sells it. Besides, we love Bexhill. We lunched at Di Paolo's where they make and sell the most wonderful ice cream. it's run by scions of an Italian dynasty that's been selling ice cream on the South Coast since Sir Arthur's day. I wonder if he ever tasted their product; he lived in Sussex and enjoyed the sea-side, so why not?
Here's a picture of the Bexhill yatch club.