The more observant of you will have noticed that the "currently reading" box on the right hand side of the screen has not changed in some considerable time. It was always possible of course, that in a reading frenzy, I had forgotten to update it. Sadly, it was accurate, I have been struggling my way through Cider With Rosie for several months. 

As a West-Country girl, born and bred, I did feel that I should have read this one, and everyone seems to like it. Cider With Rosie is the first of Lee's autobiographies covering his childhood growing up with his Mum and sisters in a small village in the West Country. 

The writing is beautiful, almost lyrical, and the descriptions of the stunning English countryside in the summer brought back a lot of lovely memories from my own time growing up in that region. It really does capture a time when village life was totally centred on the village itself, and there was no real need to stray far from it. 

It all sounds very positive doesn't it? The trouble is that it is almost too nice, I have only been able to read a chapter at a time as it feels like the literary equivalent of binging on an entire box of Quality Street.  A friend who has finished the book says it is worth persevering with it as the second half is a little easier to digest. I will return to it, but have set it aside for now in favour of other things. It isn't often I give up on a book, and I hope I will finish it some day, but it won't be this week...

Terry Pratchett is one of my favourite authors, his writing is not only funny, but very very observant. Using the chaos of the Discworld he reflects back at us the madness of our own world. 

His characters are a delight, at once being exagerated and real, and I can recognise people I know in them. Worryingly, in one particular charaacter I can regonise my own personality traits. I'm not saying which one, although to calm my friends, it isn't DEATH.

My ambiton is to be a combination of Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg. I think life would be rather fun with their outlook. I'm not sure how long I would remain employed though.

I digress, back to the books. Norwich is now is the company of the four other cities of literature: Edinburgh, Iowa City, Dublin and Melbourne. It would appear that the city has a serious amount of literary history, including the first novel, the first printed book by a woman, the first creative writing course (attended by Ian McEwan no less) and the most used public libraries. 

Now it has this status, the city will be home to an International Writing Centre, which hopefully will generate some interesting work for us all to indulge in.

Norwich is also home to my friend Andy, the designer of the Fennell Books logo, and all round good egg. It seems Norwich brings out the creativity in its residents.