Today's subject, dear readers, is literary shrines and why I don't like visiting them. I love visiting historic houses, especially castles, but writers' houses always seem terribly disappointing. I've been to the Parsonage Museum a couple of times, and I came away with the feeling that there is nothing there. We went round the house, which had been changed quite a lot since the Brontes' time; we looked at the kitchen, which had also changed, and saw a German grammer propped up next to a mixing bowl (Emily famously studied German while doing the baking); we saw the sofa where Emily died; we looked out of the window into the garden, which was planted with plants which might have been growing there when the Brontes lived there, and so on... We went to the Black Bull, where Branwell drank, and had a cup of coffee. Exhibits in the house included a piece of Napoleon's coffin given to Charlotte by M. Heger, or, in the view of the more sceptical among us, namely Emma Byron, a small, rather unremarkable piece of wood. I hope you get the idea by now. The best detail of all, however, was the Brontes' car. Now you may like to quibble here and say that the Brontes lived before motoring, but there was a grey Morris Minor parked next to the house. I am sure that the Brontes would have chosen to drive a grey Morris Minor Perhaps Charlotte had come down from literary heaven to take a quick spin down Haworth's cobbled main street, in which the stones are placed horizontally to help the horses up the hill.
Perhaps I'll try Chawton, Jane Austen's house, instead.
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Dear oh dear. Bad, bad costume.
The many faces of the marvellous Gene Kelly (or not because the stupid image didn't work). Frank's character is so funny in Anchors Aweigh. I am sure no-one has seen Anchors Aweigh so they won't know what I'm talking about. Perhaps this will encourage you to watch it, although it is a bit boring. Even I think so, and I'm a die-hard fan. If you watch it, fast forward to the dancing.
James bought me a mobile phone. So he can ring me whenever he likes. The picture is a fledgling kakapo chick.
Grannie gave me an amaryllis bulb for my birthday. It has just flowered. I had forgotten how weird-looking they are. it's like having an alien on the mantelpiece. At night, I'm sure it dances round the room trumpeting.
I ws going to post a picture of Gene Kelly looking through a pile of chairs and Rita Hayworth in the dress that reminds me of toilet roll covers (the dolls with the knitted skirts - you hide spare toilet rolls under the skirt, and if you don't know what I mean you are lucky). Unfortunately the picture doesn't work, so you will have to watch Cover Girl, starring Gene and Rita Hayworth to see what I mean. I hope this photo from Cover Girl will work instead. 
Here's another picture of the fattest, slowest, greenest parrot on the planet. But this isn't any old kakapo. This is Richard Henry, who came from a different part of New Zealand from most of the other kakapo, so his genes are very important. Richard, go forth and multiply!! The world needs you.