Wuthering Heights - a novel I may actually finish reading

One of the things that I thought I might  like to do was read a 'proper' novel and, despite 1 or 2 paltry attempts as a teen, decided to attempt (yet again) the classic 'Wuthering Heights'.  Years ago I remember being completely baffled by Joseph's northern twang and totally fed up with the 'will they/won't they get it together' relationship of the main protagonists.  Bah!  Stop wasting time was the cry.

I went to my local bookstore and found a cheap copy and, when paying for it, had a good old chat with the bookseller about it's relative merits - I think I ended the conversation by asking whether or not I could get a refund, there and then!

What, then, is it about my (current) situation that makes this story far more appealing?  How on earth could you put up with the simpering excuse that is Edgar?  And, really, REALLY, Heathcliff?  Haven't we read enough self-help manuals to know a bad person (for us) when we see one?

You know, I think that it's Bronte's treatment of the wilderness of the Peaks and it's cabin-fever ice heat that drives the characters to madness and/or death.  And I think I understand the story better because I, too, live on that foreboding Dark Peak.

'On that bleak hill-top the earth was hard with a black frost and the air made me shiver through every limb.'

As a dilettante I have been known to climb actual rock, walk and scramble in this area.  It is truly awe-inspiring and every time I drive home, from anywhere no matter how long I have been away, I am always taken aback by it's drama.  I have told my husband to forget the expense of any conventional comital and just go for the sky burial on Indian's Head.

Well, there's a thing.  Maybe, I'm a little more like Cathy Earnshaw than I care to admit......

Dilettantism - Is that so wrong?

Today is the start of my new life.  Well, that's what I always say to myself on such a bright, crisp, cold day.  The leaves are swept, the fire is stoked and I have finally managed to create this.  What?!  I can conquer the world today.

More likely, I shall sit and wonder what I should be doing with myself that will (a) be productive/useful (fun?), (b) cost next to nothing and/or (and possibly most importantly) (c) carve myself a fulfilled sense of self that will ground and complete me.  Oh dear.  That sounds terrible, but that's the nub of it.

I gave up work to become a member of the ConDems Big Society in July and, to be honest, have enjoyed all that I have done with the weeniest teeniest sense of something lacking.  

I am easily distracted.  Why does everything seems so appealing?  That, of course, does not include anything rascist, sexist or fascist.  I feel like a teenager again where everything is up for grabs.  

That's great isn't it?  'Lucky you' I hear you cry.  Don't sweat that dilettantism.  Yes, yes.  That's what I'm going to try to do and report to you what I stick with and what I don't.  

And, you see all those books?  Just how many do you think I have actually read more than 30 pages of? (There's no prize for the correct guess unfortunately).