This week I was asked to read Lionel Shriver's We Need To Talk About Kevin in order to attend the inaugural meeting of a newly-formed book group.

A paperback of the controversial Shriver title has been on my book stack for weeks but because I knew I was obliged to read the novel, I started devouring other titles instead.

I am ashamed to say that tonight's meeting of the book group is likely to take place without me because I don't think it would be right for me to attend if I haven't even read the first chapter.

Don't get me wrong - I have nothing against epistolary fiction, or the author Lionel Shriver, and thoroughly enjoyed her recent title, The Post-Birthday World, but unfortunately the timing wasn't right on this occasion.

The book I picked up instead - and I'm glad I did - is Brandenburg by Henry Porter, the story of spy Rudi Rosenharte, who ends of providing information to several intelligence agencies in a bid to save his brother from the Stasi.

The story is set in the run-up to the collapse of communism and the fall of the Berlin Wall, and I was lucky enough to have a 10-minute chat with the author while I was reading the novel, which is always a thrill.

It turns out that Mr Porter has agreed to give a talk at Wootton-by-Woodstock village hall on January 23, where villagers came up with the idea of getting high-profile speakers to take part in a series of talks, to raise money for the refurbishment of the hall.

I'm not quite sure how to get to Wootton-by-Woodstock but I shall take my A-Z of Oxfordshire with me on the night and hope that I arrive in time for Mr Porter's talk.

There was an interesting programme on BBC2 last night, Nicholas Crane's Britannia: The Great Elizabethan Journey, which focused on William Camden's travelogue Brittannia, which was first published in 1586.

The laid-back presented turned up at the Bodleian Library in Oxford, where a helpful member of staff showed him how the book would have been printed.

I've seen extracts of the text on the web but I don't know if there is a modern edition. I shall try to find out.

I have also been dipping into Michael Shelden's biography of George Orwell, which is usually tucked away out of reach on top of one of my kitchen cupboards.

Orwell, otherwise known as Eric Blair, is I believe, buried in a grave in Sutton Courtenay. Shelden's account of his life is fascinating, and I am now tempted to get my hands on copies of The Road to Wigan Pier and Down and Out in Paris and London.