A Tollstory

 The Wake is a tall story indeed. One of the tallest. The Guide has gone back to the library now so I'll make my way in my own time to the end with only the help of my basic and sporadic notes, sporadic because there were times I didn't even know which bits to make a note of. On the upside, in among the torrent of infinitely inventive, jauntily rhythmic wordplay, there were a few parts I understood well enough for them to trigger a memory of what it said in the Guide, which is hardly a spontaneous reaction to literature but it's as much as I can manage in this most unconquerable of literary quests. I've reached a suitable place to stop, about two-thirds of the way through, and so will take a break.

Returning to something more accessible will be like that most refreshing first slug of cold beer or fizzy water on a hot day, and we know what that's like at the moment. It might be like taking off tight-fitting shoes or listening to Haydn after Pierrot Lunaire. At the library I exchanged the Guide for Tolstoy's How Much Land Does a Man Need? and Other Stories. In it, I expect one thing to happen followed by others and then to interpret the concatenation to ascertain some meaning. A story, written by one of those most often lauded as the best at compiling such things rather than a consummate prose writer who many thought had surely lost his mind.

It is to be hoped that the Conservative Party, once more selecting a Prime Minister for us among themselves are in the process of doing a comparable thing but they can't be trusted. Look what happened last time. And Liz Truss is only a 4/1 shot. It's a volatile race and my MP, Penny Mordaunt, can be no value as short as 8/13. She's not my fault but she does have the considerable endorsement of my neighbours and a majority of 15000. She would be a vast improvement on her predecessor, needless to say, but I'd be a Rishi man if I had to back any of them although that would be like nominating my favourite golfer, formula 1 driver, Top Gear presenter or coffee.