Right now I'm listening to the classic The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame. I have to say, it was a little odd to be driving through the sweltering Texas heat, car air conditioner blasting, while listening to the English Mole and Rat slog through the snow of the Christmas chapter. Odd but nice - in the same way as wearing sandals to the movies in the summer - your toes icing over as, you just KNOW, outside the sun is melting the asphalt on the cinema's roof. A perverse pleasure.
