Being a bit short of my own words today, I have borrowed a few from Susanna Clarke. I am in love with her writing. I don’t want it to ever end. Luckily it looks as if it might do just that. Jonathan Strange… is twenty-five doorstops fat.

… Mr Honeyfoot’s post-chaise travelled through a world that seemed to contain a much higher proportion of chill grey sky and a much smaller one of solid comfortable earth than was usually the case.

I love this sentence so much I want to have sex with it.

I have not, by the by, yet found a sentence I would cheat on that other sentence with, marry, and raise a family of tiny little sentences with.

I shall keep you updated.