Last week I was reminded of the sheer unadulterated bliss of reading time, silence, a cup of tea, or two and a book in my squashy armchair. Simple things. Work has been a bit full on, a bit over-full on – but this isn’t a space where I moan about work, but with busy days and two evenings out last week, my reading time was squeezed. I always read every day – no matter what, it’s just sometimes I may have less than an hour’s reading time, and other days I can luxuriate in a couple of hours – it all depends on what is going on. I was spoiled during the summer, so as happens every year, September is spent partly readjusting to the routine of less reading time, and juggling. Always juggling, the books I want to read, with the TV I want to watch, the household tasks I should be doing and blogging – it will be so much easier when I retire – in about twenty years’ time. So I have so appreciated the reading time I have had, short it might have been, a bit marred by complete exhaustion, but always so welcome at the end of the day.
In other news – my self-imposed book buying ban is still unbroken, three weeks and counting. This is particularly impressive because I was subjected to a very pleasant Saturday afternoon of lunch with three librarything members followed by some very good charity book shop browsing. I resisted, came home and polished my halo (actually I was given two books – but they don’t count particularly as when I got home I realised I already had one of them). I have been having buying withdrawal though, two weeks ago I had to get my fix by going to the library – I enjoyed browsing the shelves, I always did love visiting the library, but I brought home two books to a house that quite honestly has no earthly need for more books, but it satisfied my hunger for acquisitions. I picked up The Pastor’s Wife by Elizabeth Von Arnim, which I will be reading next, and Claudine’s House by Colette, who maybe shockingly, I had never previously read. I have now finished reading the Colette, review in a day or two, but it’s safe to say I’m a fan already. I’m now looking forward to returning to the library – I always forget just how much I love it. This week the withdrawal hit again so I bought shawls from ebay and went mad in poundland, a bit random I know, but no books! so I am still pleased with myself. Hilary Mantel’s new collection of short stories – The Assassination of Margaret Thatcher – may yet be my undoing however – can I wait till Christmas and put it my list? Not sure that I can, will hold out as long as I can though. I have also had a book on pre-order for months Moriarty by Anthony Horowitz ( I love me some Sherlock Holmes, though I suspect this will be darker than my usual fare) – which I think will be plopping through my letterbox at the end next month.
With my next book club meeting looming (tomorrow evening) – I finally had to get around to reading Gone Girl, which I admit to approaching rather grumpily and with rather bad grace. I dived in on Sunday afternoon – and will be posting my thoughts in due course. I know I need to step outside of my comfort zone occasionally – that is one of the reasons to attend a book group, I’m not sure I am very good at book groups, I unreasonably expect them to read my kind of books.