For the last three months or so, the Mitford sisters have been turning up everywhere I look.
I'd decided that since they were turning up all over the place I'd better find out a bit more about them and decided to go to the library when I got back after Easter.
Over the Easter weekend I had a conversation with mum about the holiday they'd just been on where they'd stayed near the Mitfords childhood home, dad turned on the tv on Sunday morning (to change the clock) and Ben Fogle was walking through the graveyard where Nancy and Unity are buried. Then later we were watching a documentary about Freddie Mercury and they had an interview with his main costume designer...Diana Mosely. Obviously not the Diana Mosley (nee Mitford), but still....
So I'm reading all about them at the moment, something which has reaffirmed to me the fact that while books like Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre don't do anything for me, books/people/places from the first half of the 20th century (especially between the wars and during the Second World War) really do catch at my heart.
I've felt a bit guilty about not liking those books, because they're so obviously ones that you're supposed to adore. But they just don't do anything for me. So I shall read them, and say "That was ok." and then get on with reading the stuff that calls to me.