It’s all my own fault. Had too good a time last night and here I am at crack of dawn after a measly four hours sleep with cramp in my right leg, a queasy feeling in my tummy, two slightly whiffy woofers at my feet staring at me wondering when I am going to serve them their breakfast. Why oh why did I insist it was husband’s turn to drive? I regret it now. He’ll be waking up with a clear head and have a fun day. Not sure I will, but hey ho, when will I ever learn?
In fact I’ve been rather remiss on several counts lately: ignored the ironing, convinced myself it’s too hot for dog walks, haven’t watered the plants, my To Do list remains firmly Undone, and I haven’t bought any food for the weekend. I blame the sun. Now the weather has decided to behave itself, I keep finding myself standing in the garden with my eyes closed, peacefully soaking up the warmth on my face and body. Or perhaps I’ve been distracted by Fifty Shades of Grey. Now I realise I am supposed to review a book once I have read it. But I just have to say something about it now. This instant. I am only halfway through the first of this trilogy by E. L. James but from the very first page I disliked it. And was mesmerised by it. This supposedly erotic novel, made me groan…not with pleasure but with disappointment. I cannot understand why it is causing such quite a stir, apart from the fact it has a good dollop of explicit sex. To me, it reads like (what I imagine is) a Mills & Boon. The prose is rather like wading through a muddy field in overlarge wellies. It is also repetitive and very often, frankly laughable. The premise is this: 21 year old virgin Ana Steele meets impossibly handsome billionaire Christian Grey. He is impossibly perfect apart from his sadistic sexual tendencies. He persuades naive 21 year old Ana (yep, she’s the only 21 year old naive virgin on the planet) to be his ‘submissive’ via his impossibly amazingly wonderful lovemaking which brings her to “intense body shattering orgasm”. OK, the educating of a virgin is quite a good storyline. Erotic it is not. Or am I just too pragmatic to get turned on by phrases such as “My insides practically contort with potent, needy, liquid desire” or “Jeez, I’m a quivering moist mess and he hasn’t even touched me. I squirm in my seat and meet his dark glare” ? She only has to bite her lower lip and impossibly gorgeous Mr Grey is immediately ready for action with his “impressive length” (bit like my husband). Let’s face it, this book is utter rubbish. So I am putting it in the bin, where it belongs. Like any sane person, I will not bother wasting any more of my valuable (ironing) time reading the rest of it. Or perhaps I’ll just take it with me into the garden and read just one more page…
Yours mesmerised, Grace x
p.s. Dear Ellie – a tote as beautiful as the one you found might solve your panic attack problem, but I think your mother’s soothing skills seem far more efficacious. Keep calm gorgeous xx