Wednesday, 30 May 2012

248. Being between books

In fact, this one's a bit of a cheat. Because I have a love/hate relationship with those rare moments in which I am between books. I love it because it's so rare, and it makes me feel like something's missing. To the point that I start looking around for whatever it is I've mislaid, or try to remember what I've forgotten, until I remember that the cause of my vague unease is that I haven't got a book to read. And that makes me laugh, because it's idiotic.

I also hate being between books. It is unnatural and frankly terrifying.

I have books. But not, currently, the 'right' book. I don't want any new-fangled 'e' nonsense, either. No. What I need now is access to a real bookshop...

1 comment:

  1. oh dear oh dear. a conundrum indeed.

    but let us remember that we are 'never' between books because there are always the classics to re-read. dig out the jane austen, mallory towers, swallows and amazons and any other old favourites and get with it. i bought a plum sykes book today (second hand obv). i will report back.

    in desperation there are always those boring sections of the newspaper. that T probably reads because she is a better person than me.

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