After a brief interlude in Oxford, city of dreaming spires (and Inspector Morse pubs, and places used in Harry Potter films), I have returned to continue my running review of Cold Iron. I must say Oxford is a lovely place, chock-full of culture and stuff, and absolutely heaving with tourists during the day. At night in summer the city is almost deserted - astonishingly few people in the pubs, such as the Lamb and Flag, where C.S. Lewis and J.R. Tolkien
"Get on with it, Lewis! I'm off to be rude to a woman and then sit in my Jag listening to Mozart!"
'The Installation' by Noreen Rees offers some moderately light relief from the bleaker fare in the first half of the book. A man whose life is falling apart after his girlfriend leaves him is visited by a TV technician. The visitor incorrectly names the protagonist as Mister Lovecat, but since the bloke hasn't got a telly package he plays along. Eventually he gets the gadget to work and watches 'an old episodes of The Sopranos'.
Sam, the installer, returns to offer some tech support. He heals the rift in the life of 'Lovecat', and of course there is a twist ending that is fairly predictable. But as vignettes go this one works well. It is not quite 'Alas! Poor ghost', but in that ballpark.