All things Venetian

Well, all my plans for getting six chapters written before Athens were thrown into confusion. Because of late arrival of review books I had only a week to read and review two books about Venice - around 550 pages together. It meant I had to spend five days just reading - which felt very odd and I had to keep telling myself I was actually working.

I've written only one more chapter and my hopes to complete two more will probably be scuppered by the "final" copyedits on City of Ships, which I won't get till after tomorrow.

Last Thursday I went to the launch of Michelle Lovric's The Undrowned Child at the Italian Bookshop. It is set in Venice, where Michelle lives when not in London. I now have the book and will look forward to reading it, since the extracts read by actors Claire Bloom and Geraldine Paige were very enticing.

There have been social occasions every weekend! Two family birthday celebrated with a feast at middle daughter's home in London and then the naming ceremony of my two little nephews the next week. Both very happy events.

And then this weekend we had a friend staying. We took her to Compton Verney,which is a real haven of civilisation, in Warwickshire. Among the pictures in its art gallery were several of Naples and Vesuvius which, despite being the wrong city also had a Venetian quality - or perhaps by then I was just obsessed.

There has been so much good TV - a lot of it clashing. Peter Ackroyd's Venice, Joanna Lumley Catwoman, Stephen Fry's Last Chance to See - even a new Miss Marple. But basically when not working I have been glued to the US Open tennis Grand Slam. The loss of Andy Murray now seems so last week, since we have had the rise of Del Potro, the victory of Kim Clijsters, the collapse of Nadal and the tantrum of Serena Williams. I am poised to stay up late to see the men's final, which I hope Federer will win, though I think Del Potro will give him a good run.

I didn't stay up for the semi-final last night and missed that phenomenal shot of Federer backwards through his legs at match point. But I've seen the clip. What a player!

I am now reading The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, which has been an unaccountable omission up till now.

Seeing is Believing

It's been a busy couple of weeks! Two birthday parties - one for a 50th, one for our youngest nephew, who was two. Equally enjoyable, both of them.

There have been alternating hot and cold weeks: in the last hot one I spent four hours planting hanging baskets and urns and pots and troughs. Three days of watering in the intense heat and then it was time for another cold and wet week. The plants seem to thrive better in this odd weather than people do.

On the last of the glorious days my agent came out here for lunch and we had a good talk about future plans. Watch this space.

Then two visits to London: the first to see Sickerts in Dulwich (see below), the second to celebrate the 21st birthday of Kaye Umansky's Pongwiffy. There was a lovely party at her agent's - Caroline Sheldon - in her delicious house behind Notting Hill tube.

By the weekend it was so wintry that we practically had to light a fire. Instead we laid on a classic cream tea for two visitors.

Then back to London for the announcement of the new Children's Laureate - the wonderful Anthony Browne - and a meeting on Mike Rosen's Just Read campaign.

I've just had a visit from my old Florentine friend, Carla, and the sun shone for us. We had a lovely trip to Jaffe and Neale's bookshop in Chipping Norton - they don't have independent bookshops in Italy.

And then to Compton Verney in Warwickshire which is a beautifully run house and garden with an exhibition of portraits called Seeing is Believing including a couple of Holbeins, Cranachs and Reynolds.

I haven't spent much time at all on the novel.

I was very disappointed by the Sickerts, which were painted in Venice. Just perverse to go to a place characterised by the quality of the light and then make the paintings dull and dark. But it was worth it to see the Rembrandts in the permanent collection.

I read A.S.Byatt's The Children's Book - 600 or so pages.It's almost a masterpiece but she needs a strong editor or maybe she needs to listen to the one she has. There's a party near the beginning where we are told not only the names of everyone attending and how they are related to one another but also every detail about what every guest is wearing!

Since then I've read Penelope Lively's Making it Up, which is a sort of imaginary autobiography - a companion piece to Oleander, Jacaranda - which doesn't quite work.