The week in stuff

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I have rice pudding. There is a boy asleep in the room next door (wearing pull-ups, so come what farting may, literally). The time is ripe for a Week in Stuff, my friends.

One day I’ll publish H’s best auditions for King of the Melodramas. This, yesterday:

me: Hen, can you get your socks on, please.

H: I can’t, because COMPLETELY I AM NOT LOVED.

me: …

me: get your socks on.

I never worry about getting enough exercise, because I get so much practise eye-rolling with H it’ll take me all the way to the world championships one day.

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This very week we’re in the middle of is potty-training week, which means we’ve done precisely nothing. More about that later, when I can tell how well it’s gone. Last week, though: the weather was astonishingly good, and T and I spent our mornings rambling around outside and our afternoons walking through woods for the school run. The Roman town at Silchester is just round the corner from us, and it’s a gorgeous circular walk on top of the old walls, with a convenient church bench in the middle for a refreshing biscuit. Or seven.

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I taught a workshop on Shakespeare – my beautiful bearded genius – at a convention at the weekend. They were a jolly bunch, and submitted to acting out the St Crispin’s Day speech and drawing on Shakespeare beards in good humour. Especially appropriate, then, to come home and watch the new cycle of The Hollow Crown, which is the BBC’s adaptation of Shakespeare’s history plays. The old series covered Richard II through to Henry V – perhaps it will be enough for me to tell you that Tom Hiddleston plays Henry V, but if not, Ben Whishaw is the most exquisite Richard II, and Sir Pat Stew knocks John of Gaunt’s speeches out. of. the. park, as is his wont. This new series covers Henry VI and Richard III, and the mighty Cumberbatch plays Richard III. Even if Shakespeare’s not your thing, this adaptation is accessible and savage, and Cheekbones Cumberbatch is a Machiavellian nephew-murdering charismatic sociopath, so, you know, get on down (the first episode of the new series is on iPlayer, here; Benedict isn’t in it till this week).

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On the recommendation of a friend, I read Paul Kalanithi’s When Breath Becomes Air this week, written by a gifted neurosurgeon who is diagnosed with cancer. It’s a philosophical, lyrically written book, very powerful. If you’ve only got one cancer memoir in you (and I wouldn’t blame you if you did) I think Kate Gross’ Late Fragments just has the edge over this one for beauty and honesty, but Kalanithi was a fascinating, complex man and his written ending comes like a gut punch.

I am also – with somewhat less gravity – now horribly addicted to Ann Cleeves’ Shetland books, which were made into a BBC series over the last couple of years. You may have seen it: Douglas Henshall prowling around solving Shetland Island murders, in his grandad’s coat. I want him to come and solve my murders. It’s cool, I can arrange for some. Anyway, the earliest books are a bit clunky (‘Perez was very sensitive. He said something sensitively, because he was very sensitive’ YES OK WE GET IT) but get better as they go, and from the first are atmospheric and totally brilliant. My only issue is that the TV version changed a lot of the details, so when a character died from a stabbing yesterday, when I was expecting her to die of a brain tumour some years hence, I was FURIOUS AND SADDENED BEYOND REASON.

Ooh, look at him. Solving murders. On a headland. In plaid.

Ooh, look at him. Solving murders. On a headland. In plaid.

Ben Folds in the car this week. I came to this important realisation about The Luckiest (almost wrote The Lickiest then, which would’ve been a very different kind of song) on about day three:

Book club yesterday. So I made The Cake. You know how Sherlock Holmes calls Irene Adler The Woman? This is The Cake, and is living proof that you can throw absolutely anything into a bundt tin – indeed, you are almost obliged to throw in the easiest cake mix you can find – and it’ll look ornamental and impressive anyway. I use Betty Crocker’s Devil Food mix for this one, flick melted Nutella all over it when it’s out, and add chopped nuts or strawberries afterwards if I’m feeling terribly fancy. It takes almost no time and zero skill. Truly, The Cake, you are a cake for all of us.

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Last thing. Superheros minus their CGI do really fantastic jumps.

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Leap, tiny Thor! You’re welcome.

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