It’s become something of a tradition in this household to celebrate the sixth of January. Perhaps it’s strange to celebrate the birthday of a stranger, but we do owe so much to Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I, for one, owe him a large swath of my upbringing and a good many of my own interests – as children do tend to absorb some of the peculiarities of their idols. I owe him also innumerable hours of enjoyable reading.
So today I honor Mr. Holmes and give myself over to more such reading. Today is a day of books and tea, the evening capped, perhaps, with an excellent claret, as I celebrate the foremost contributor to the modern forensic sciences. (And Mr. Holmes will understand, I hope, if an hour or two are dedicated also to the memory of the wise and beautiful Mr. Jeremy Brett, who has been for so many the face of the Great Detective. I cannot imagine he might object; after all, our Mr. Holmes is a bit of a thespian, himself.)
How are you celebrating, dear reader?