Three Beautiful Things

1. In the afternoon, Ellie produces bags of Malteasers for the three of us, and we spend twenty minutes happily crunching (or sucking the chocolate off and then crunching in my case). 2. 'There's some post for you,' said Fenella on the way back from the restaurant. 'A postcard and some magazines. Nothing important. Do you want them?' Last time she handed me some post, it went straight in the litter bin on the High Street. But I caught sight of the signature on the postcard and gasped. 'What? What is it?' Gasp. 'What is it?' 'Neil Gaiman. Neil Gaiman ?' 'Who is Neil Gaiman?' 'SandmanCoralineMirrormaskNeverwhereAmericanGodsWriter.' 'Clare, please breathe. You have to breathe.' So between hysterics, I explained I had been sending letters to writers I admire; and that Neil Gaiman had sent me an encouraging handwritten postcard. 3. Andy and Fenella showing off their dancing -- they demonstrated a complicated cross-over wh...

1. Sitting in the sun for a few minutes. 2. A couple of weeks ago I wrote a letter to one of my favourite childhood authors -- Diana Wynne Jones . A reply arrived yesterday. I wasn't expecting one; I wasn't even expecting an acknowledgement -- she must get piles and piles of letters from adoring fans. But here was a personal letter, responding to my comments and promising a sequel to one of my favourite books ever in the autumn. (Go to 43 Things to find out why I wrote the letter in the first place.) 3. I read Richard Feynman's book What do you care what other people think? while I was travelling. The title sounds like self-help, but it's not. It's memoirs and essays by a genius. The title piece is the story of his first wife who often asked him that question. It made me think about how I squirm and feel small and hot at the noise made by my friends having fun, wondering 'What must people be thinking?' I wondered why I cared so much about what total stran...