
'Every year,' said Grandfather. 'They run amuck; I let them. Pride of lions in the yard. Stare, and they burn a hole in your retina. A common flower, a weed that no one sees, yes. But for us, a noble thing, the dandelion.'
My holiday reading while in France was Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury. I bought it at a car boot sale in Alnwick and although i remember really liking Ray Bradbury books when i was a teenager - i did only buy it for the title.
It is the most magical book - one of those books you don't ever want to end. I read most of it on the train journey back across France, in a park in Paris, on the Eurostar train under the Channel and then on the train from London to Preston. There were a couple of bits that made me want to cry, but i thought it wasn't appropriate to cry on a train, plus there was a gripping scary bit that made me shut the book so i could take time to catch my breath. Wonderful!
And now i'm back from holiday i'm reading a hefty text book on meadow management.
No comments:
Post a Comment