Just idling

Back from a weekend with Mr Coffee's parents, where I alternated between hobbling to the dinner table to be fed sumptious meals, and reading.

There are worst weekends to be had. Having a knee the size of a balloon which sends shooting pains through itself whenever you take a step is a bad thing; my mother-in-law's cooking is a good thing. Paul Magrs' Conjugal Rites is a great thing.

Conjugal Rites by Paul Magrs

My rating: 5 of 5 stars
This is the third book in the Brenda and Effie series, and the best. The first two were great, in that 'there's nothing else like this' way - in the third one the characters really start to get into their stride. Brenda, the 200-year-old Bride of Frankenstein, is alarmed to find that her intended husband Frank, whom she fled all those years ago, is back to claim her. And she's quite happy, thank you very much, running a Whitby bed and breakfast business and guarding the Gateway to Hell with her elderly friend Effie (a job given to them by an ancient, tiny, wizened abbess who lives in a suitcase carried by her evil and charming son).

This adventure sees Effie descending into hell to save her friend from the accursed marriage to the handsome brute with the bolts in his neck. She brings along a voluptuous hotelier, still wearing her nightdress, and their faithful two-good-to-be-true young helper Robert. Once there, they find all the previously dead characters from the first two books wandering round the place living remarkably familiar lives...