There wasn’t much to write home about in April – as you can tell from the date of this blog. Mad About the Boy was a rather sad conclusion to Helen Fielding’s Bridget Jones saga (I’m assuming there’s not going to be a fourth book). The funny bits weren’t very funny; there was lots of prose written as texts and tweets which was really irritating; and she jumped on the whole chaotic-mother-of-small-children bandwagon way too late. It felt old and tired, much like the heroine. I’ll always have a soft spot for Bridget though – one of my first dates with the man who is now my husband was to see the film at the Gate Cinema in Notting Hill, which was my local cinema at the time. How times have changed . . .

Blood Work by Michael Connelly was competent and should have been a gripping thriller, but I just couldn’t care about the characters. The Rosie Project was better – a fairly entertaining and absorbing read with a leading man who was one of those genius-with-no-social-skills autism sufferers that seem to have become something of a literary fad in recent years. Here’s hoping for a brighter May.