Funny kinds of cravings

I find I awoke just now with the keenest particular interest in British foreign policy through, say, the Attlee government. You know, before Eden's apotheosis of foolhardy aggression in the English-speaking world until our rise. Has this ever happened to you? I should think so: one gets out of bed for a cool drink of water, and finds oneself before almost any bookshelf, bristling with historians and architects, painters and poets in a persis-tent undertone of amateur schol-arship, every so often enriched by the exotica of continents connoting the most errant, not to say wayward wanderings of here a fleet, there a regiment, without apparent continuity but for custom. Not our mode, of cyclical revivals.