This morning I realised something. Well I realised a few things: Firstly I realised how late I was getting up and now I had 10 mins to get out the door. Any additional extras of getting ready, like eating breakfast or doing anything more inspired than brushing my hair, were out of the question.
In my bedroom I have ‘The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald’ which was a Christmas present from my brother. I loved the film when it came out and thought I should read the book which, if anything, is even more extravagant than the film! I like to read this on the weekends when I don’t have to get up straight away because it takes you into another world.
In my bathroom I have ‘How To Be A Woman by Caitlin Moran’ which if you haven’t read, you must! It’s one of the best books I have ever read and it made me laugh, it made me cry, it made me name my breasts! I’ve read this book so much that I can instantly pick it up, open it to a random page and instantly pick up the monologue so it’s perfect for the bathroom.
In my hallway there aren’t actually any books. It’s more of a transient space in my flat so I’m rarely there for long enough to need something to read.
In my kitchen I have ‘The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Conan Doyle’. This one used to be in my handbag for reading on trains and things but I realised I got too into the book and frequently found myself trying to deduce things about people on the train and no one likes a random girl staring intently at them trying to work out what shoes being resoled but the tops being pristine means. So this has become a kitchen addition at the moment as a short story is about the right length of time to make a casserole.
Replacing Sherlock in my handbag I have ‘Trainspotting by Irvine Welsh’. This is a new addition as it was an impulse buy at the tills of hmv. But it’s something that my pharmacology lecturer actually used as a reference when teaching about addiction so I thought I would give it a go. It’s a bit heavy going and you have to get used to reading the type phonetically and then listening to your own thoughts to hear what they actually mean. This means I get very easily engrossed and a few hours on a train earlier this week seemingly flew by because I was so focussed on comprehension.
Amongst the back issues of vogue on my coffee table there is a very tattered copy of ‘Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte’ which is one of my comfort books. I was last reading this while eating ice cream (with lactase tablets) on a boring evening with nothing better to do than let the familiar story cover me like a blanket.
On the arm of the big chair there is ‘The Princess Bride by William Goldman’ as I sat there next to the window last Sunday reading “a fairy tale like no other, of fencing, poison, true love, hate, revenge, giants, bad men, good men, snakes, spiders, chases, escapes, lies, truths, passion and miracles”. There is an issue to sitting in the big chair, it’s got a curved high back and large arms so I ended up sitting with one ankle over the back, one over an arm and my head sort of nestled into the crook of the other. I’m not sure that classifies as sitting since my feet were above my head but until there is a verb to describe what that is, I’m sticking with sitting for now.
The others I have in the flat are all tucked away with my DVDs in the TV stand. I’m sure I can scatter a few more across the place because surely reading 6 books at once isn’t nearly enough!