Ha!

I visited my family yesterday. The main reason was to give them a copy of my thesis (they were all suitably impresed by it's weighty unreadableness) but also to pick up an unlabelled and unexpected package addressed to me at their address (where I haven't lived for over 5 years)

Had lots of fun chatting to people, explained the cold war to my 10 year old brother Theo (who was vaguely aware of it: was it between China and Russia maybe? And what was communism anyway?) Even my 19 year old sister couldn't remember it, I suppose none of you munchkins do. How odd. Poor old grandma is still not the same after her illness, but much better than she was. Also played basketball (!!), thankfully Theo still hasn't hit the "better than Sophie at all things physical" barrier Michael did at around his age. Anyway, just as I was leaving, mum remembered the package, so I opened it. Inside was... a copy of the Lord of the Rings, and nothing else.

Now some of you will have heard me talk about this book. The copy of LOTR my mum got for me for my 17th or so birthday, and wrote a nice little message in. The book I lent to my boyfriend at the time, the boyfriend who the last time I saw him after we broke up, specifically for returning books we had borrowed, "forgot" my book. The book I have mourned with bitterness for seven years(*).

I and mum decided he must have finally finished reading it, he never was a very good reader.

Oh, and I gave it to Theo, since I already have a copy :)

(*)Not that I wasn't bitter about other things too.