For the last four days, my evenings have been largely spent enjoying a quiet read in front of the wood burner.
I've not read much for several months so this makes me a bit of a binge-reader, I suppose.
And the advent of a nice warm and cosy spot in which to indulge some literary pleasures has meant that I've indulged in a page devouring binge quite shamelessly. The last four days have seen me complete two of these and get some way into the third.
That's (in order) P.D. James' The Children of Men, Truman Capote's Breakfast at Tiffany's and Robert Graves' I, Claudius.
Worryingly, as I thought about these titles the other day, I noted that their initials make up C.B.I. (we don't count the definite article for these purposes); a very poor choice for a good trades unionist such as me.
Therefore as soon as I complete Mr Graves' famed opus I shall feel obliged to begin (from our small but perfectly formed library) P.G. Wodehouse's Thank You, Jeeves. This will be followed by Mulk Raj Anand's Untouchable and Graham Greene's The Comedians.
That should level things up, and it's as good a way as any to select a book to read from the myriad shelf loads which tot up to something around 2000 volumes spread throughout Millbrooker Towers. Needless to say, most of them are unread and are likely to remain so - but they do make excellent insulation as they line the walls.