I know that it’s not uncommon for pregnant women to experience cravings. I’ve been asked often about what cravings I’m having. My routine answer is that I haven’t really had any except for an increased consumption of buttermilk over the summer. But what about ice cream? Well, not more than the usual. And pickles? Meh, not interested. So, no, I haven’t had cravings.

Except that I’ve read 6, count them, SIX Dick Francis books in the last two weeks, and when I went to the used bookstore today to replenish my stock and they were closed I almost started crying. Elizabeth George is just not the same.

So yes, I’ve had a craving. For fluffy crime novels about horseracing. If the baby’s born on Christmas she won’t be named Holly but she may well be named Kit…