1) The Shortest Way to Hades, Sarah Caudwell. Light, bright, a lot of fun, and a clever mystery. Also a pleasant change to have a detective story that doesn't involve sexual violence. I found myself thinking partway through that the most 80s thing about this 80s book is not the absence of email or mobile phones and that documents are typed, the boozy lunches, the fact that every single character with the possible exception of Hilary* is undoubtedly a Tory, but a relatively junior barrister not only owning a car but driving it through central London in the afternoon as apparently the quickest way to get anywhere.

2) Silent Parade, Keigo Higashino. Not lacking sexual violence (though no detailed description), but very good, and the thing that was annoying me as I was thinking "but why aren't they all doing X" turned out to be a twist, so that was fine. I'd not read any Higashino before and this was clever, readable, and I'll read more. I just wish that UK translations of Japanese novels would indicate at the beginning which way round they are putting the family name and given name. Either is fine, but since it seems to vary which is chosen in different books, I would like it to be made clear so I know.

3) Simon Boccanegra, Verdi. Opera North semi-staged production at the Royal Festival Hall, which means comfy seats, excellent sightlines, and much cheaper prices than otherwise in London. Rather tortuous trains, which the presence of antisoppist made more endurable. The performances, vocal and orchestral, were fantastic and it was a thoroughly enjoyable evening, but it's not going to join the list of my favourite operas because while the music is great, the drama isn't so strong. Too much of the plot happens off-stage with characters then reporting to others, ultimately I wasn't moved by the piece as a whole in the way I want to be by the operas that really work for me.


*Possible Liberal Party?