Peter H Wilson, Europe's Tragedy: A New History of the Thirty Years War, Peter Høeg, Miss Smilla's Feeling For Snow

Bookcases installed and filled!  Downstairs there are three full Liatorps and a half Liatorp, plus a corner Hemnes. I've spent most of my spare time recategorising and moving things about to get the right balance between similarity, aesthetics and practicality (different shelf heights). Life at the moment revolves around children's parties; I haven't managed a run since the Great South in October, and I have a half-marathon in a few weeks. In the week we have a new pick-up routine which seems to be working; I head down to nursery to pick up Libby first. Normally this is walking, but I had Fred's scooter last week and almost killed myself and several bystanders by scooting far too fast down White Rose Lane and attempting to stop by jumping off. What an idiot. After picking up Lib, who is so chatty at the moment and has new words all the time, mostly related to food, violence or the assertion of possession, we take the buggy up the hill, singing 'Wheels on the Bus' on the way. Lib does the 'Gangnam Style' horsey ride dance when I sing 'The Freddies on the bus go 'Gangnam Style!''. Then we pick up Fred from Gemma's, which always turns into an event with their wonderful whirling sofa that spins round. Luke and Fred seem to get on so well. They had a playdate on Sunday and then a party; Freddie seems to be turning into a real little boy, with a little gang  running round causing chaos.

Freddie's favourite game at the moment is 'wrap and sandwich' which involved him and Lib pretending to be cheese and salami and getting wrapped up in a blanket and then lying on top of a pillow, having another pillow put on top, then Libby, then another pillow. I've been writing a joke for him every day too to encourage his reading. A Sample is 'What flies and wobbles? A Jellycopter!'

After pick up from Gemma's we have a scooter race back through the town centre. Normally this involves stopping at the ice cream parlour, Starbuck's, the Library, the cookie shop or similar. He's getting really quick now, I have to really run to keep up. He's been out on his bike a few times too with me holding the handle.

I struggled with the history of the Thirty Years War, 800 pages of battles and politicking. At the end of it I couldn’t tell you the first thing about that messy period. Miss Smilla was the book that kickstarted the Nordic noir genre in the UK. It seems very familiar now with the dark brooding atmosphere, but must have seemed very new at the time. The early part on the book is set in Copenhagen, and after The Killing and Borgen it eas like reading about an old friend. When the action switched to a ship and then later Greenland I got disoriented; outside the comfort zone. . .

Ben Aaronovitch, Moon over Soho, Peter Ackroyd, Foundation: The History of England Volume One, Andrea Camilleri, The Shape of Water

The tent has arrived, the house is starting to take shape and the Christmas tree is now up. So happy in the new house, although until the books are recategorised I won't be able to sleep properly. All my shelves have been requesitioned for the kids' playroom, so there's going to need to be a trip to IKEA soon to get some more book storage.

Simon Sebag Montefiore, Jerusalem: The Biography, Peter Dennis, Pieter Plunker The Flying Tailor, Benerson Little, Pirate Hunting: The Fight Against Pirates, Privateers, and Sea Raiders from Antiquity to the Present, AS Byatt, Ragnarok, New Scientist, Does Anything Eat Wasps?: And 101 Other Questions, JRR Tolkein, The Hobbit, David Reynolds, America: Empire of Liberty, a New History

It's been a while, but we've been busy moving into the new place and although I've managed to find time for reading, I've not found time for writing about reading. We moved in five days ago, and everything is still in boxes. I had yesterday off to unpack, and by 14:00 had managed to unpack about half of the kitchen stuff; I'm going to be busy for a while yet.

I've just received a 5 man tent as a gift for 15 years' loyal service at CWW, and am very tempted to put it up in the Living Room before Helen gets home. The kids would love it, but she would kick my arse for not getting on with the unpacking. She sent a text this morning asking 'Where are the nappies?????'  They're in the bottom of a box, under a dozen other boxes, somewhere in the garage. Probably. Or maybe in the play room. . . .

Owen Jones, Chavs: The Demonization of the Working Class and Håkan Nesser, Borkmann's Point

The horrible pejorative title put me off reading 'Chavs' for a while, but it was a fantastic polemic about the demonisation of the working class from the '80s onwards, and how those who have suffered most are being blamed for society's problems. Scornful of both Conservatives and New Labour for not addressing the needs of those at the bottom. Almost a rallying-call too for what Labour needs to do to reconnect, although of course that would be going against the prevailing wisdom of tacking to the centre and appealing to the Daily Mail readers of Surbiton (and Woking) in order to win elections.

It's shameful that in all those years of New Labour so few council houses were built and that the gap between rich and poor widened. I know I'm biased, but surely a platform based on building more houses and public facilities would be a vote winner? We don’t have to betray any principles for that and it's a good idea - boost for construction industry, houses for people, bring house prices down by increasing supply. . . Even those with houses will have children that they can see being pricef out. And punitive taxation on wealth and second homes in particular too. Oh, for a left wing alternative. . .

'Borkmann's Point' didn't really grab me, despite Colin Dexter's praise. Maybe I've just read too much Scandinavian detective fiction recently. It's not technically set in Scandinavia, of course, it's in an unnamed northern European country which most resembles the Netherlands or Frisia, but has elements in common with anywhere from the Hanseatic League. I'll read a few more, mind.

I went on Freddie's school trip to The Lookout in Bracknell on Monday and had a whale of a time. Had so much fun looking after the kids and they really enjoyed themselves. Fred's teacher Mrs Taylor is my new hero; she seems to effortlessly control the class, keep them engaged, remains cheery and upbeat and does so much. The organisation was really impressive, and today I've been into Fred's class for an open day; each pupil has a book full of their work and pictures showing everything they've done; the effort involved must be huge. Well done to teachers and teaching assistants everywhere.

Norman Davies, Vanished Kingdoms: The History of Half-forgotten Europe and Erich Kästner, Emil & The Detectives

Two very enjoyable books that were rattled through; although the 800 pages of Vanished Kingdoms took a fair few sessions on the exercise bike compared to Emil & The Detectives, which I devoured in a spare hour while Helen was out tap-dancing. I'm full of admiration for the breadth and confidence of Norman Davies after his Histories of Europe and Poland, although his idiosyncratic history of the British Isles, with his thesis that there really is a common 'British' identity rather than English, Scottish, etc didn't ring true. He's very good at placing contemporary Europe in context, and pointing out that the current configuration is far from immutable; Belgium, Italy, Spain or the UK could all split up in the near future. The referendum on Scottish independence has just been agreed so is in the headlines, so it was a very timely read. Lots of commentators are talking about the break-up of the UK and seemingly unaware, as Davies points out, that the breakup of the UK has already begun when the Irish Free State was set up - we're already on the path to the UK dissolving.

'Emil & The Detectives' was a great yarn, I think I nearly cheered out loud when Emil foiled the thief. What a great read for an 8-11 year old, I'll be recommending it! 

Helen had a day out at the spa on Saturday so I took F&L into town. Hamley's in the morning, where Libby did her best to destroy the Lego statues and then the British Museum in the pm, which they loved. Not for the exhibits, which didn't register, but for the opportunity to run around an enclosed space. It's Book Week at Freddie's school this week, and on Thursday he is to go dressed as his favourite character from a book - he's chosen Asterix, which obviously makes me happy, bless 'im. Not sure school will allow him to take his sword in though

Catherine Wendy Bracewell, Uskoks of Senj and and Andrea Camilleri, The Terracotta Dog

'Uskoks of Senj'  was hard-going. I didn't give it the attention it deserved, but the shifting alliances between the Habsburgs, Venice and the Ottomans and the crazy and lawless frontier they created should have made for a really interesting book, but it just didn’t grab me.

I'm running the Windsor Half Marathon on Sunday, which will be the first big test for my knee. Hopefully I'll be faster than last year and can break 2h10.

'The Terracotta Dog' was much easier to read, an Inspector Montalbano novel which is flavour of the month at the moment as BBC4 are showing it. Our usual Scandi-appreciation society of the Hansom-Lugaros and the Falcone-Jenningses has migrated south for the autumn to wonderful Sicily. It looks so achingly beautiful, we've started having vague conversations about a big holiday there and hiring a villa. . .

I managed the Windsor half in under 2 hours, which made me so happy given that I was 2h20 last year and aiming for 2h10. First half-marathon under 2 hours though! Fantastic! Carter's Steam Fair was on Englefield Green so I went there afterwards to meet all the Sawyers. I was already dehydrated and exhausted from the run, and then scoffed Vimto, popcorn and nougat and then went straight on to the Octopus with Ella. I felt so sick afterwards, what an idiot

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.