Thanks for all the emails this week and I hope those of you who read this column online managed to find it somewhere.
As I said in my replies, I don't put the column online myself so you need to email the paper direct if it's not there.
And I got some quite cross mail asking how I could dare say I love my Kindle. Of course, I still love real books most, but it is a huge joy being able to read a review and get the book in under a minute, especially when there are few English language books available here.
English language is occupying a lot of my time as I give the crew English lessons and they reciprocate with Turkish ones. I think their roars of laughter mean I am getting it wrong, but their mistakes are pretty funny, too. I asked our boat-boy what he was doing, and he said, "I am delicious".
Sweet boy, he really is, but what he meant to say was, "I am doing the dishes."
I'm so enjoying life in Turkey and am happily embracing most aspects of Muslim life. One thing I don't think I will be adopting is the burquini. Not only is it impossible to swim in, but it is also not desperately attractive. Our ungrateful friend Sarah-Kate spurned the burquini we presented her with as a 50th birthday present, and ever-thrifty me thought I would give it an outing. Never again.
It's difficult being homesick at the moment. Home is nearly here - half the Wakatipu is in Turkey and we are having dinner with three separate boatloads of Queenstowners this week. We pulled up in the marina at Fethiye only to find our nephew Brian lounging on the back of our friend's very beautiful new gulet. I was so envious - imagine being on a gulet holiday with 12 of you all under 30. Could life be much more fun?
He's working as a lawyer in London but considering resigning and taking up "funemployment", where you work as hard as you can, saving every penny, and then go on holiday until you run out of money. Hard to knock it, although the boring old wisdom that comes with age can see the down side.
There was a big earthquake here yesterday, but Miranda's passengers were unshaken.
There were some injuries to people who jumped out of windows to escape injury.
There was a fabulous photograph taken by some parapenters at Oludeniz who were flying over Baba Dag when the earthquake hit, and saw the mountain spilling rocks and dust clouds. Our crew were very relaxed about it - they are quite used to earthquakes here and it didn't even make the front page news.
Back home, it seems every posh frockery in New Zealand and Australia has been scoured and stripped by the lucky ticket-holders going to John and Suzanna Martin's 100th this weekend. There'll be no chance of getting an appointment at the hair and beauty salons as the lilies get fully gilded for the smartest party of the year.
Too much partying might lead to some naughty behaviour and the book I just read is exactly that.
It's Mrs Robinson's Disgrace: The Private Diary of a Victorian Lady by Kate Summerscale.
Poor old Mrs Robinson married a mean old git who nicked all her money and made her life very miserable. Naturally, she dreamed of romance.
Unfortunately, she didn't just dream it and even more unfortunately for her, she wrote about it in her diary. Her husband found it and sued for divorce and the papers had a field day with the story. It's a pretty fascinating look at how grateful we of the fairer and smarter sex have to be to the early feminists! Delicious Victorian expressions abound and I loved the part where a woman "had gone stark mad - and stark naked ... she was found t'other day in the street, clothed only in her chastity, a pocket handkerchief and a visiting card".
Apparently, she thought the spirits wouldn't be able to see her in that outfit!
