Comfort culture

It is August, the summer is running away from me at an alarming rate, and I find myself falling into a few regular patterns. It seems that every year at this time I have a strong urge to read and watch Sherlock Holmes (the Jeremy Brett Sherlock, of course), listen to Jethro Tull (which, despite my jokes, I don't spend too much time with as I get older), and think about baseball. Only the latter is of any use to me, since I'm supposed to be working on a dissertation about baseball writing. I'm not sure why this time of year is Sherlock time. I think I was introduced to the British video series in late summer, and it certainly had an effect, but that isn't the full explanation. I think I like the whole escape into Victorian/Edwardian England and its fogs and carriages and pipes and huge whiskers. It seems so cozy. And ordered. And intellectual, but not in the scary way (that makes a lot of sense). In the last week I've watched "The Bruce Partington Plans," "The Musgrave Ritual," and "The Devil's Foot." The final two are particular favorites of mine. I'd like to get more of the DVDs, but they ain't cheap. So far, I only have the "Return of" set. "Adventures" and the movie collection are next, but probably not until Christmas. Damnit. Tull and baseball speak for themselves, I guess. Makes me feel younger. How boring, really. My coffee's cold, work awaits. August isn't much fun.