:: All the fabulous
... and lots of worrying about costumes, and tongues wedged firmly in cheeks.
:: I, meanwhile, have been concentrating on knitting for all the Bondi babies. The first to appear was the very beautiful Aivry (I think that's how she spells it), who is the daughter of two very good friends of the Bondi, though they don't actually work there. Kirsten and Andy are both surfers, and both Australians who call San Diego home. But I'm counting Aivry as a Bondi baby anyway, and this is one of her socks:
:: Eric Clapton's autobiography is number one in the LA Times' non-fiction best seller list, and number two in the NY Times'. And there's an audio book of it, read by the lovely Bill Nighy, whom I've loved since seeing him play the ageing pop star in Love Actually.
It's so tempting to explore the whole audio book universe - especially as I'm such a slow reader. Will is listening to George Orwell's 1984 before he goes to sleep, and, not much of a reader, he said he really enjoyed reading the book along with the CD. I'm so ecstatic that he's doing this, and almost off his own bat, too - I think he said a lot of Radiohead lyrics were inspired by 1984. L-o-v-e that band. We are now gently suggesting he go on to read Animal Farm, a copy of which we just happen to have quietly put in the bookcase. Ssssh.
Following the text while class members took it in turns to read out loud was always the way we read the books we had to
:: The power of Oprah indeed: since she named Love in the Time of Cholera as her book club pick for October, it has been on sale everywhere, even in the supermarket, alongside all the Nora Robertses and whatsisname Grishams. And last weekend, I saw it was number one in the NY Times' (paperback trade) fiction best seller list and the LA Times' as well.