At the last count this stood at about twenty+ tomes covering theatre, art, various plays, crime, Biggles (in a class by himself), cars and Victorian literature.
Where’s the lamp supposed to go?
The floor didn’t look to good either: Spanish and more art books.
I’ve reconciled myself to the fact that I am a book collector extraordinaire. All the available bookshelves are now double stacked.
With Amazon providing ample opportunities for indulging in dilettante type behaviour, what’s a bibliophile to do?
This morning, our wonderful post lady delivered Writing for Journalism (Wynford Hicks), which I’m already half way through. This is fascinating, but is already prompting more reading (and, indeed, it advocates reading, generally).
So, next steps?
– Win the lottery, and buy a house with a library?
– Have a Fahrenheit 451 book burning session to clear some space?
– Pile the books up in some mad old dear fashion and expect to be reported in the press, in the next five years? (‘Woman killed by book landslide and remains eaten by Alsatians’).
OK, tabloid story it is.
Let’s get stacking.
[Image courtesy of Wikipedia.]