Solved my holiday literature problem by trawling the 'net for books set in Venice, reading a few reviews and deciding, almost at random that 'The Dante Trap' by Arnaud Delalande would probably fit the bill quite nicely. Phoned the library and got them to reserve me a copy to pick up in the next few days. The library is ideal for this: there are very few novels that I really want to own, and holiday books are definitely of the most ephemeral sort.
Now that Lent is drawing to an end I am really fancying a glass of wine, a nice chilled sauvignon blanc, particularly as it is the school holidays. Nuff said! A little voice keeps telling me "Go on. Have one. You've made your point." It sounds so reasonable doesn't it? And that's the way temptation works: we don't do bizarre or out-of-character things when we give in to it - on the contrary it's just an extension of our innermost nature, our untrammelled σαρξ. But I know it's the thin end of the wedge. If I give in now, there is no point to my having started in the first place, and next year I may not bother at all. No, I shall resist. What could be better than the anticipation of a reward for a job completed and done properly?
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