Nov. 29th, 2014

[identity profile] littlerdog.livejournal.com
Yesterday, before I had the bright idea of getting off the bus at the wrong stop and losing myself in empty, cold and wet countryside*, I bought a couple of books. I was carrying them throughout my ordeal and both they and I came through safe. I got muddy. The books didn't.

Charles Dickens and the Great Theatre of the World by Simon Callow
and
Rome: The Autobiography by Jon E. Lewis.

I read some of the Rome book while sitting in the pub waiting for husband to come and rescue me from the wilds** and although it's interesting, the voices are very stiff and formal. Maybe that's translation or maybe it was the Roman style.

I did find the Twelve Tables (summary of the law as it then stood) fascinating, especially that it was found necessary to state twice that it's no crime to kill someone who comes as a thief in the night. Maybe they wanted people to be really clear on that one. Or maybe the stonemason made a mistake.



*It was getting dark, too.
**The last mile to the 'nearest pub' was the hardest.

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