Nightcrawler

The less tied I am to permanent employment, the more noctural I seem to become. Further to my post on Tuesday, I find myself happy to report that I am still awake and working on freelance work for TGW. I am of course mad, having said that I would go into the office tomorrow. Nonetheless I assert that an ATHENS login is a wonderful thing, and has enabled me to establish that one eighteenth-century TGW subject was married to someone who was not the daughter of a titled lady and her husband, but the daughter of the titled lady before she was titled and when she was living fairly openly with a prominent political fixer of the day without them bothering to get married, and no-one seemingly being bothered about it either, as long as they observed a few social decencies, such as using aliases when their children were baptized.

I fall for gossip even when it's two hundred and ninety-eight years old.

In other news, I succumbed to temptation again when passing the Oxfam Bookshop tonight - their late opening on Thursdays is fatal - and now have more Moorcock, Priest and Sayers to put on my shelf. When, that is, I have made space for them. I'm not sure when I will read them, either; I made a start on Tristram Shandy on Wednesday - one of the many eighteenth-century novels I should have read years ago - and that's going to take some time to get through, particularly if my evenings and very early mornings continue to be divided between websurfing (some of which is work-related) and catching up on my freelancing.