Tag Archives: Summer

On Not Packing Books


The Summer holidays approach, packing will be done, adventures anticipated.

But am I the only person who considers the books to pack long before I’ve decided on clothes, which bag to use, or even where we’re going?!

The anticipation of potential reading time, uninterrupted by the usual demands, gives me almost as much enjoyment as the actual time away.

But I am constantly faced with a dilemma: which books to pack? What will sustain me for time away from my library (both personal and municipal)? What if I’ve taken the wrong books? What if I run out of books? How heavy will they be? Should I squeeze in an additional small book or additional jumper?

My Kindle was supposed to solve this dilemma. I now have over 800 books on my device: enough to satisfy even the most voracious reader for many holidays to come.

I should be happy with this. But, no. I still worry about whether to take my charger for a couple of days away. What if it breaks? Can I really survive without a ‘real’ book in my bag?

And so I am setting myself a challenge. We’re going away for four child-free days, travelling by train with limited luggage.

Can I ‘survive’ with ‘just’ my Kindle?

If yes, I might finally get to read ‘Wolf Hall’…


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My Summer Affair: A love letter to my books

My dearest Tomes,

I am sorry. Forgive me.

You have been neglected this Summer. You have languished on the shelves! crammed together, two deep, unable to feel the air between your pages. Some of you are piled high by my bed and ‘reading corner’, anticipating the time you will be picked up, caressed, and whisper to me your stories.

I have loved another for a while. It was a holiday romance, I promise.

He was so slim, attractive and powerful. He could follow me wherever I went. We had adventures in the car together. He sat with me on the Tube while we saw the sights on holiday. He told me wonderful things while I watched the children playing. I sat with him in the sunshine in the garden. He kept me company in bed, keeping me up late with tales of other lives.

He let me buy him acessories; I deliberated over colours and materials, wanting to protect him and keep him safe.

We never ran out of things to say to each other; he could always find something to suit my mood.

He was Kindle.

But I miss you.

I miss your weight; the feel of you in my hands.

I love the way you look; all of you different and unique; drawing me in with your cover art, blurb, and reviews. I have a relationship with all of you; you are more than just the words on a page. You are the stories you tell and the pictures in my mind.

I miss how you look alongside me at the cafe. I want people to know it is you who is with me; not an anonymous, blank machine.

You never run out of power. I can read you in the bath. I can throw you down, bend your covers and annotate you (although you know I never will on purpose).

I can pass you on again and again. I can buy more for a pittance and help charities.

I can adorn you with bookmarks; I have a plentiful supply. (Some are even old enough to have graduated from university.)

I loved having 500 books at my fingertips, but couldn’t settle on one at a time.  Buying a book is silent, invisible and instantaneous; I was tempted too often. Not a good quality for a book-addict like me.

I am ready to carry you with me again.

I have a larger handbag.

And the children are back at school.

I still love you. I always will.

Yours always,


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Posted by on 26/08/2012 in Uncategorized


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