I doubt that anything that might happen tomorrow — or until the next episode of Downton — will top this line by Maggie Smith:
Edith! You're a lady, not Toad of Toad Hall.
It put me in the mood to reread Kenneth Grahame's The Wind in the Willows, one of my all-time favorite children's books. It's great reading for adults, too. But I'm still only a third of the way through David McCullough's The Greater Journey: Americans in Paris — and it's five days overdue at the library. This is the furthest I've ever made it through a McCullough book. It's entertaining enough; it's more of a slow-acting sleeping pill compared to his other books, which knock me out right away.
Toad of Toad Hall. Now there's an amphibian that could give Possum ideas. I'd better not let him find the book or he, too, may become obsessed with motor cars. After all, he already has a Harris Tweed suit.
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