I am not feeling very well today so the reading has suffered. As I feared all I managed to do on the lunchtime reading front were again 20 pages. The more you sit on the shoulder of Henry Perowne the more you like him because the success of a career and the trappings of wealth sit very casually with him.
He wanders around his home on the Saturday morning getting ready to go off and play his squash game and goes past the library, accepting that he never thought he would live in a home with a library. He feels grateful for the relationship he has with his daughter and the literary arguments they enjoy together.
As he wanders out into London the crowds are gathering for an anti-Iraq war march and the papers are full of headlines about the UN trying to get the US and UK to show restraint and wait but of course it seems unlikely that will happen.