Splendibird is off on her holibags!
It's true, I'm off to foreign climes (well, er, Orkney... which is, like, nearly Norway) for a week to enjoy boat burnings, treasure hunting and seafood. Fear not, though, I shall be carting a veritable suitcase-load of books with me, all falling roughly into the high fantasy genre. Therefore, dear readers, you can expect reviews of the following to be forthcoming on my return:
Pretty good, yes? Also, there are changes afoot in The Mountains of Instead which will all be revealed on my return. Until then, in lieu of posts for the next week, please enjoy my very favourite ee cummings poem - which always makes me think of my current destination.
maggie and milly and molly and may went down to the beach(to play one day) and maggie discovered a shell that sang so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and milly befriended a stranded star whose rays five languid fingers were; and molly was chased by a horrible thing which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and may came home with a smooth round stone as small as a world and as large as alone. For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) it's always ourselves we find in the sea