With the months passing by ands one of the main ambitions being this year to read all of the Dance to the Music of Time it is straight onto book ten.
The title attracts anyone with a passion for books and the moment the phrase is explained, as uttered by someone as a bookshelf falls on him or alternatively something said as a lover walks through the library to his mistress, it becomes even more memorable.
Having finished one book with a service marking the mass dead a more limited funeral is held for Lord Warminster the left wing leaning Erridge.
As a relation through marriage Jenkins is invited to the funeral and watches on the sidelines as the left wing cronies arrive to try and retrieve some of the money the Lord was handing out to run various publications.
This is a post-war world where nothing is yet defined, including importantly the future for Jenkins himself.