1.'Girl' by Beck. Beg, borrow or steal a copy of this song, because it is wonderful. I found myself actually dancing to it in the park yesterday while going for my afternoon stroll. First of all I was just walking in time to it, and then without noticing I'd started kind of grooving from side to side whilst on the move. Luckily there was no one to witness this freakish display (and if there was absolutely no chance of being seen I would have been in full-on hip-swinging, finger-clicking mode).
2. The package which arrived today containing Season 3 of Gilmore Girls, some more Elizabeth Peters books and Gayla Trail's You Grow Girl gardening book, which will hopefully inspire me to start growing stuff besides my unkillable mint plant (although the parsley I planted last year seems to have survived the winter).
3. BBC Radio 7. Oh, the joy of Paul Temple and Lord Peter one after the other! Of course, one of these fictional detectives is vastly superior to the other. Unlike Paul Temple, Lord Peter is never smug and sure of his own rightness. He is also a shell-shocked WW1 veteran, which is a lot more sympathetic and interesting than being a jetsetting writer. And I bet he could take Paul Temple in a fight. Temple's suaveness is no match for Lord Peter's rapier wit and steely core. Perhaps most importantly of all, Lord Peter has a much more enlightened view of women than the hilariously patronising Temple ("by Timothy, women are extraordinary!"), and ends up married to an independent writer who keeps her maiden name. By the way, if Patsington and I ever have a daughter, I have already told him that I would seriously like to call her Harriet and give her her father's surname (the doen't care whether our hypothetical kids had his name or not). Those who know his surname will realise why.
4. The sheer excellence of Veronica Mars. How did we ever live without it?