Ben Aaronovitch, Rivers of London

Very similar to Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere, as many reviews point out. Set in a supernatural London and written by a chap who works in the Covent Garden Waterstone's, as the very proud lady pointed out to me when I bought it. I now feel duty-bound to go back there to but the sequel. As luck would have it, it's right near to the fantastic Gelateria on New Row so I can have a decent ice cream and coffee too.

Maybe this weekend I can head up there as I need some new shoes and jeans. My current pair have been destroyed through all the rough and tumbles. Freddie caught me out last night. 'Daddy, please can we lie on our backs and look at the stars?'

'But we're inside , Fred'

'I know, it's just pretend.'

So I lie on my back and as I start to pretend Ursa Minor is on the ceiling, Freddie and his auxilary Libby dive bomb me and Freddie performs his favourite trick of popping on my face.

Alan Huffman & Michael Rejebian, We're with Nobody: Two Insiders Reveal the Dark Side of American Politics

Rather disappointing; all anyone wants from these guys, who are professional dirt diggers, is to dish the salacious gossip about public figures. This is no expose though, it's a romanticised version of their dull lives trawling through public records looking for inconsistencies and controversies. They're on the side of the angels  (the Democratic Party), and what they're doing is necessary in American politics where the stakes and the corruption levels are so high. Our political controversies always seem so quaint by comparison. No billion dollar wildlife refuge destroying town polluting scams here; just MPs claiming for moat cleaning and duck islands.

I read this as the authors appeared on the magnificent 'Daily Show', and that's where they were at their best; hinting about who they know things about and giving their opinions on public figures. They'd be great to go for a drink with, but the book is so tame.

Louis Kronenberger, The Extraordinary Mr Wilkes, and Magnus Mills, A Cruel Bird Came to the Nest and Looked In

Yet another biography of that fascinating man with little talent but trouble-making. A great wit and character, but all he ever wanted was to be as corrupt and venal and self-serving and consequently as prosperous as all the other place-men. His big mouth offended the king, and he rode the wave of popular resentment against the monarchy for his own ends. True demagoguery, and what great entertainment.

Every time I read the work of Magnus Mills his understanding of the workplace shines through; I wish I was able to write and analyse so eloquently. He charts the obstacles to progress, the inbuilt idleness, the importance of routine. . . I'll be going back to 'The Restraint of Beasts' before long.

Freddie and I went to see Woking play on Saturday, his first game. Woking won 2-1, both Woking goals coming early when Freddie was still interested. He just about made it to half -time without getting too fidgetty, but spent the second half taking pictures of the crowd. Not much atmos, singing and activity at Woking to keep him occupied, unfortunately. Maybe we'll go to The Lane in a few years; I think The Stoop might be the next place to try. He did ask a lot of questions, most of which were difficult; 'Why are we clapping Daddy?'

'That was a very good cross, Freddie, it nearly connected.'

'What's a cross?'

'Oh. . . It's when one if the players hits the ball hard into the middle from the wing.'

'What wing?'

'Oh. . .  'the wing' is the side of the pitch.'

'Why?'

'Oh. . . It's just a description used for the sides of things sometimes. Like, erm. . . . Big houses. And prisons.'

Enid Blyton, Five on a Treasure Island

I read this reactionary old tosh as Ella is reading it and I wanted to be able to talk to her about it. Other than Noddy, I don’t think I've read any Enid Blyton. I'm being uncharitable, as it is entertaining and must be thrilling for children to read, but it has such a stultifying privileged mindset it can be jarring. The children all attend boarding school, the aunt and uncle own swathes of property including an island and a castle and yet are apparently poor, and Anne is such a frustrating character, not able to do so much purely because she's a girl. George balances that out to some extent, but still. . .

We've had an offer accepted on a house in Horsell, so we're busy sorting mortgages and dealing with solicitors at the moment. So much could still go wrong so we're just crossing our fingers and trying not to fall in love with the house until it's settled. . .

David Gilmour, The Pursuit of Italy: A History of a Land, its Regions and its Peoples, Arturo Perez-Reverte, Captain Alatriste VI, Pirates of the Levant, and Hywel Williams, Emperor of the West: Charlemagne and the Carolingian Empire

My holiday reading from the ile de Re. I did my usual trick of reading about one country while holidaying in another, leading my poor brain confused as to where I was and which particular language I should abjectly fail to speak. This time I was reading about Italy and the Levant in France rather than Hungary in Malta, Malta in Venice, Venice in Croatia or Croatia in Cornwall. What a good book the Pursuit of Italy was though, another reminder that our current seemingly immutable national identities in Europe are nothing but, and largely an invention of the 19th century, however strongly held they may be by some. How interesting to follow it up with one of the first exponents of a strong national identity in Europe after the collapse of Romanitas. The book makes the point that Charlemagne can be claimed as an inspiration by both the pan-Europeans because of his uniting of Western Europe under one ruler, and by French and German nationalists as a true [Germanic] Frank. Gilmour wrote about a similar situation in the Spanish Civil War, when the troops of Mussolini, who co-opted Garibaldi as a precursor to his Italian nationalism, were fighting against the Garibaldi Legion of Italian volunteers fighting Franco; on whose side Garibaldi would certainly have been.

Loved Alatriste, seemed very slow paced until the cracking naval battle with the Turks that the whole book built towards. Nice to see the Knights of Malta getting a look in too. The ile de Re was fabulous, we hired a triporteur to get the kids around, and it was just so cool cycling along sea walls from little town to beach to little town. I want to get one and paint it in camouflage and add RAF roundels so it looks like a Spitfire. Don’t think I'll be able to get that past Helen. . .

In the meantime, we've had an offer for our house and are looking at some properties tomorrow; we could actually be moving! Fred started school this week and seems to be really enjoying it, although he rarely offers any information. We're having a park reunion tonight with his nursery friends. . . .