Yesterday, I was
in somewhat of a grump. Plans that I’d
made for my day off were not panning out as I anticipated. In my previous blog I discussed how I’m
growing up – or at least feel like I might be – so I did the mature and
responsible thing… I got back in bed and sulked. This was a few hours long sulk. I didn’t do anything at all. I just led there, sighing heavily. I didn’t make myself tea. I didn’t watch any YouTube videos. I wallowed in self-pity. Very mature, I’m sure you’ll agree.
One of the
aspects I do despise about getting older, I have no conviction for my own
sulking any more. I can do a full on
strop followed by sulk, but at best, it will last for a few hours before I get
bored. In my teenage years, I could sulk
for days and weeks at a time. These
days, it just stops me from getting things done, so what’s the point?! Around the point at which I decided I was
getting bored of sulking, I got out of bed and proceeded with the day I had in
mind. No, I wouldn’t have the company I
had intended for the little trip to town, but I would have me. One of my goals for the week was to read at
least 100 pages of my current book, A Game of Thrones by George R.R.
Martin. No, this is not a huge
undertaking, but I’m making quite long work of it, so off I went to Costa and
sat there with my book. I wrote in my
diary about how I had sulked, read for a while, enjoyed a pastry then ventured
into Wilkos and bought an antiperspirant.
All was going so well… Until I clocked Waterstones.
Just in case these ramblings
have reached outside of the UK, Waterstones is one of the last surviving high
street book stores. Borders went down
the drain a few years ago, WH Smiths sells more magazines and stationary than
it does real reading material, Bookland went bust before Borders. A man hunting for books anywhere other than
the Internet will struggle if it was not for Waterstones.
When I moved to
Preston in June last year, one of the things that excited me most was to live
in a town that had an actual bookshop. Blackburn hasn’t had a dedicated book
stockist since Bookland closed and was replaced by a pound shop. Reading that sentence breaks my heart
somewhat. But now, not far away from my
house was going to be one of my most favourite book shops in the whole wide
world. It smells exactly how a book shop
ought to smell. It’s got friendly staff
and the walls are just lined with worlds and people and possibilities. I love that place. It feels like home.
Moving out of my old flat in September 2012, I was stunned at how many books I owned. So many I had never read and some of
them, I didn’t even know why I’d bought.
I had no intention of reading them so why did I own them. At the time, I did what I considered to be
logical and sensible and gave them away.
I needed less stuff to pack for putting in to storage. I couldn’t have any near as much stuff in my
new room and I needed to not take over the garage where most of my belongings
would be living. This seemed like a good
plan.
I was wrong.
Not long after I
moved to Preston, I bought a Kindle.
More than my coming out, I think my Mother was incredibly disappointed
in me. She had raised her children to love
and appreciate the magic of books. I
think it comes as part and parcel of her dyslexia; she yearned for the ability
to read for so many years and as soon as she could, she bought and devoured
books. Whilst at University as a mature
student she read War and Peace in one 8ish hour sitting. The woman is nothing, if not
conscientious. And she isn’t an old
fuddy-duddy either; she’s quite tech-savvy and recently invested in a smart
phone and a tablet, but she will not forgo the experience of thumbing a
book. I, however, am a child of the new
technology generation. We have smart
phones and apps and DVD’s and BlueRay and FaceTime. Surely I would love a Kindle. And I did.
Briefly. The moment I truly fell
out with it was when the battery died.
Now, I know I ought to have charged it regularly, but in my head, Kindle
= Book = Do not need batteries. Fatal
error in logic, I know, but still true.
I will always hold the Kindle to be an amazing piece of technology (when
charged) and the convenience for holidaying folks and students is unparalleled. For me, it wasn’t cutting the mustard.
Part of my New
Year’s Resolution for 2014 was to read more.
I had no intention of making this work with my Kindle. I wanted books. Real books
with paper and smelled like ink and glue.
It’s not just a mental experience when you sit down with a book. It’s one that stimulates all the senses, not
just the as well as the imagination. It
makes me happy.
If we add in my
discovery of Carrie Fletcher – YouTuber ItsWayPastMyBedTime
- and her adoration of Disney and the printed media format, I felt this
compulsion to read again. I read a book
to help me with my creativity and one of the weekly activities was to look over
the week and find any “synchronicity” and discuss it. The synchronicity of finding Carrie, whilst
rediscovering my love of reading and books… It was nothing if not good timing (Boys in Books are Better
– never a truer word spoken. Fan girls,
go laugh and giggle and surrender your love of non-fictional men at the
door. They aren’t worth it).
Back to
Waterstones yesterday. I have a very bad
tendency of self-pity-purchasing when I’m out and about and feeling bad. I think this is probably quite a normal
thing. Is it? Let me know!
But the love of owning books and the possibilities inside gets me
giddy. I looked it up. I qualify as a bibliophile. So I came home with my 4 new books and a
notebook, which I also did not need,
and put them on my book shelf.
 |
| My book-shaped accident from Waterstones (14.03.14) |
Today, I walked
past the shelf and got mad with the disorganisation. There were too many piles on top of the rows
and I couldn’t really see what was there. Being a normal person… don’t look at me like
that… I had to sort it out. All the
books I have yet to read are now neat and organised … But I just had to go and
count the buggers. It turns out I have 54 books on my shelf that I haven’t even
read yet! Do I have an addiction to
buying books? Is this normal? Moreover, do I even care? I love reading and am reading more now than
I have in years. Perhaps it is going to
take me years to get through this lot, but at least I have plenty to go at.
Now, if you’ll
excuse me, I need to carry on with my reading…
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