Walking a fast half-hour circuit of the village last night under a clear and almost-full moon, seeing the stars and flashing lights of the planes circling for Rotterdam and Amsterdam airports, and hearing the very last of the summer crickets chirruping in the grass. (And the imaginary dog trotting along beside me, of course)

Sky-watching. In particular, watching the sunrise over the sea from the deck as the overnight ferry pulls into home port, with a cup of coffee and a chocolate croissant; seeing mammatus clouds with my own eyes for the first time, a shooting star, and a night-sky full of stars out in the country. All over the past week or so.

The smell of tertiary butyl alcohol. A bit like isopropanol (de-icer, various cosmetics) only more so. Minty and a bit camphor-like. Rather nice - even better than ether.

[CdM] Hear, hear! Via Facebook, I've just regained contact with an Estonian fireman I use to chat with about 12 years ago. The downside is the cyrillic script on my FB timeline now!

Christmas!

In that case: Arriving home from work to discover that your teetotal wife has opened a bottle of red wine, to make lasagne, and the rest of it requires drinking. I love getting out of the car to the smell of lasagne, as it means I don't have to feel guilty about opening a bottle, just for myself.

Ordering a treat for yourself - in my case, cricket pads, bat, and gloves.

Boxy concrete buildings built on a grassy slope overlooking big swaths of nature. Only realized how nice this makes me feel the other day when looking at some pictures.

Mullion Cove at low tide.

The memory of having met and conversed with Samuel R Delany face-to-face, and of loaning him a copy of Driftglass when he had nothing for his scheduled reading and thus saving the day. 8oP

Being blissfully unaware of science fiction authors ;-)

Wot, even Arthur C Clarke? Even Ian McLeod? Even Charles Stross?

I've heard of, nay read (but not for nearly 30 years), A C Clarke. Never heard of the others.

Wow, and I picked UK authors of great stature too.

Cherry Garcia.

[Stevie] I did read quite a lot of John Wyndham when I was a teenager, plus A C Clarke, and a couple of Harry Harrisons. Unless you count Stephen King, I think my adult science fiction reading has been limited to Douglas Adams.

[Phil] Well, I have a non-standard view of genre classification: If you think it is SF, it is. I may not agree with you, but so what? Delaney would at one time hold that you might not have the vernacular needed to properly appreciate SF unless you can recognize it when you see it, but I reckon if you enjoy a story at whatever level genres are irrelevant, and anyway all the people I've conversed with here are intelligent enough to acquire the vernacular as they go.

Years ago Raak and I differed with feeling over whether "Perdido Street Station" was Hard SF or something else. While many a satisfying hour can be passed arguing this over pints of beer, in the end all that matters is that it is a bloody good story sufficiently different from stuff sitting next to it on the shelves that it should please anyone reading it on your recommendation.

You should check it out of your library and give it a go, Phil.

Re: John Wyndham. Scariest thing I ever read was from The Day of the Triffids, the line about the blind man scuttling from a looted store with two tins of red paint under his arms and a cunning grin on his face (the context is that he thought it was food). The implications of that little vignette left me profoundly disturbed for weeks.