Except for me.
And Jaime Lannister.
At this point Game of Thrones has been filming in Northern Ireland for around eight years. In that time I've seen and served a healthy number of its prominent cast. I get the impression that they're part of the Northern Ireland settings now. To the point where no one is particularly phased by them.
Dear Jaime was just taking a break from his sword play and politics.
But it did remind me to try to read more fantasy. I've always loved reading fantasy. Not so much sci-fi. Because it pickles my head. But fantasy has always been adjustable for my mind. One has to buy a copy of A Dance of Dragons however as it's missing from my collection. This week I reread Terry Pratchett's The Colour of Magic. And I'm also reading in chunks Marion Zimmer Bradley's mammoth retelling of the Arthurian legend - The Mists of Avalon.
Time isn't on my side however. And this is the problem with working a job where the hours are either jumbled or surprising. Today was meant to be my day off work. And now tonight I've agreed to start at 5.00pm, finishing at 1.00am and then returning at 9.00am tomorrow. It's my own fault. I did agree to it.
The advantages are that it will mean more money and at least the person I'm doing this for will get to spend more time with a loved one.
Though I probably am showing a true Virgo trait here and playing the martyr.
So not much fantasy reading for me today, tomorrow... Maybe Monday night. If I'm not exhausted.
It's only sprung in my mind that if indeed I am too tired, I can always listen to some fantasy series on BBCiPlayer Radio. A quick check on its app tells me that there are two retellings of Dracula available.
The earphone port of my mobile phone wasn't working this week. This was on Wednesday when I was tackling several breakages around the household. Thankfully the gentleman at the Samsung Advice Center was happy enough to take care of it in no time.
I owe him a caramel square.
But this now means I can feel wrapped up in other voices. Trained to entertain.
Many a times I have fallen asleep to readings and poetry from the radio. Do they enter my dreams?
So now I have a few notes to type, dash home to meet my dear brother and listen to music before the inevitable shift start. One shouldn't complain. I have a job and I'm earning. One should make the best of it. And I'm sure there will be other times to catch up on reading. So long as I'm not catching up on too much sleeping as well.
