I have recently finished reading Henry James’s ‘The Portrait of a Lady’; it’s the very first Henry James novel I’ve tackled *hangs head in literary shame*. It’s the current choice of my book club and as we meet only every other month there’s lots of notice about forthcoming books so they shouldn’t be time-pressured reads.
But I didn’t start reading, as per, until the last-minute and philistine that I am the first thing I checked when I bought the book was exactly how many pages I needed to plough through. Oops, nearly seven hundred, the question then was could I finish it before tomorrow night’s meeting. I need not have worried because as soon as I started to read ‘The Portrait’ I became engrossed in the story; I wanted to finish it quickly yet paradoxically I was enjoying it so much I didn’t want it to end.
In between reading ‘The Portrait’ I have also been writing a speech. I am a member of Toastmasters (a public speaking club) and an aeon ago I put myself down to deliver a speech this Thursday. Once again, I left it to the last-minute. It’s written now but it needs
some a great deal of polishing. And I need to rehearse and time it. So, if you know me and you see me driving or walking around while simultaneously muttering madly to myself rest assured I am not losing my marbles. I am just practising my speech and more importantly trying to memorize it as it has to be delivered without the use of notes. Aargh, just thinking about it feels stressful. *starts to tear hair out*.
Speaking of notes here’s one to my myself: you really need to stop leaving things to the eleventh hour.