Last week I had an urge to read a “proper” book. I have lots of books on my Kindle and I’ve been reading 2 on there and one “proper” non-fiction (aside from all the books I read for editing or proofreading). But sometimes, when my eyes are tired of looking at a screen, or if the light is too bright for the Kindle, or if there’s no power supply, I crave a “proper” book.
And all of my “proper” books are in boxes in the garage …
On Friday night we thought about going to see some friends in their band, but by the time we were ready to get ready to go, the band would have already started. So we had a lazy evening in front of the telly instead.
(Bear with me on the books …)
On Saturday we were going to go fishing, but the weather forecast wasn’t very good, so we went to see my parents in Birmingham instead.
On the way home we dropped in at Hatton Country World in the beautiful Warwickshire countryside. We only went to have a mooch in the antique and bric-a-brac shops but it’s somewhere I often used to go for a visit and the poet has heard such a lot about it, I decided to take him. On the way I also showed him some of the lovely private houses that can be found in that part of the midlands.
(I haven’t forgotten the books …)
On the way back from there, we dropped in to see the poet’s parents in Doncaster. And when we got home, we had another lazy evening in front of the telly.
On Sunday, the poet had an afternoon gig, so that cut the day in half really. We went to do some shopping, then dropped him off and I joined him an hour or so later. The gig buddy and her bloke came out too, and we stayed to see the first set of another band that played afterwards, who are also friends of ours. And by the time we got back we were ready for another lazy evening in front of the telly.
Monday was a bank holiday here in the UK, and the day we’d decided to do that fishing. So while the poet sorted out his tackle, I had a mooch in one of the boxes of books.
I sorted out a writing guide from my lovely friend Lynne Hackles and a novel, An April Shroud, from the late, great Reginald Hill. I also packed the Kindle, a pencil tin and a notebook.
However, on Sunday, the poet had pulled his back quite badly either humping gear or climbing on to the stage clumsily. He was in quite a lot of pain and the promised sunshine was fast turning to cool rain. Undeterred, we tootled off to the fishery anyway, but when they gave him his “peg”, it was on a part of the complex that dogs aren’t allowed. So Rufus would have to stay in the car.
With all things considered, the poet decided to cancel the fish and we went for a picnic instead. So my lovely bag of books didn’t get used this time, but it’s ready for the next time. Then when we got home, after I decided to empty at least one box of books into the bookcase, we had another lazy evening in front of the telly …
Tuesday we were back at work and I kept forgetting about the Doncaster literary festival. So when I remembered, I had to call the poet to see if we could go to the opening event last night. He’d forgotten too, but we decided that we would go as we’d had so many evenings in front of the telly just recently.
And we’re very glad we went.
The speaker (and event ambassador) was Stephen Booth, someone I’ve “known” and chatted with on Twitter and Facebook for some time, and whose books I’ve thoroughly enjoyed over the years. He gave a very interesting talk and found time at the end to finally say a proper hello, have a very quick chat, and sign a couple of books for us – Black Dog for the poet and Lost River for me.
So now we both have reading fodder and I’ve broken the back of unpacking the boxes of books … yeah, right …
What reading fodder do you have at the moment?