Yesterday evening I finished reading
Is there such a thing as a Gothic Comic novella? If so, this is one. It is a rollicking prose gambol, lightheartedly satirising the writer’s contemporaries. There are numerous references to the works of his friends and acquaintances. Peacock loved playing with words, using some in a ridiculously pompous way, and probably inventing others. We may not understand all this nonsense that has been in print for more than two hundred years, but it will definitely provide fun. I won’t give away the story, but I will say that I understand that the author was once torn between two women, and there is possibly an autobiographical element to it.
As can be seen above, my edition is from The Folio Society of 1994. The work was originally published in 1818.
Marilyn Butler’s scholarly introduction sets Mr Peacock in place with his fellow writers.
The book comes in a slip case stamped with gold lettering. It is bound in cloth with one of the artist’s designs.
Mr Forster’s numerous exuberantly grotesque illustrations romp through the pages.
One character represents Lord Byron. Can you identify him?
This afternoon we visited Mum at Woodpeckers in Brockenhurst. We were able to see for ourselves that she is happily settled in.
As we approached the village I saw the potential for this shot in the distance. Jackie was driving at 30 m.p.h. I grabbed the camera, wound my window down, waited for a gap in the speeding undergrowth, took aim; and boy, was I chuffed at the result.
On our return I grabbed another image on the move, this time through the windscreen. It was only when I came to upload the picture that I noticed the dog.
These oaks viewed from Hordle Lane demonstrate that, despite the warmth and sunshine, they are still bereft of foliage.
Late this afternoon Sam, Holly, Malachi, and Orlaith, having arrived in England from Perth, Australia, checked into a nearby caravan site, then came to visit us. While we were enjoying a takeaway Indian meal from Forest Tandoori, Mat, Tess, and Poppy joined us. The jet-lagged family repaired to their caravan and the others stayed the night with us. I finished the pinot noir; others drank red wine or beer.