This weeks Oh You Pretty Things is hosted over at Keynko and the theme is books.
I love books. I cannot imagine life without reading. I inhale words, when on a roll I can read a dozen books month, and when not nose deep in papery type I can be found digesting the digital version. Yes, I do read e-books, mostly because my budget can’t keep up with my need for new material. You cannot beat the physical thing though, and I still buy several real books a month – from book shops and charity shops.
I love the smell of a second hand book shop. As a child we had one at the end of our road. It was in a huge converted church and was filled with that particular scent of old books – a papery, dusty smell with a hint of pepper and a tendency to make you sneeze. I would rummage for Enid Blighton in my formative years, moving onto Stephen King and his ilk in my teens.
A few years ago I was lucky enough to do my dream job and worked in a bookshop up until I had Syd. Loved it. Loved getting in the new titles, reading the blurbs, stacking them so they looked just right. Loved my discount card too. Loved talking to customers, recommending books I thought they would enjoy, and vice versa. Yes, there were miserable customers, there always are, but each day would contain at least one conversation with another bibliophile, both excitedly babbling when we realised we had books we adored in common, and eager to share ideas for new reads to a like-minded person.
The upshot is we have a lot of books in our house. I am good, if I don’t absolutely LOVE it, it will go into a pile for one of my quarterly charity shop visits. But I am 41, there are still a lot of books that I haven’t managed to part with. Maybe I love it to the extent I will read it again, maybe I loved it as I related to one of the characters, maybe it is a biography of someone I find interesting, maybe it made me cry, maybe there was just one perfect line that earnt it a place in the keeper pile.
I long for the sort of house with wide recesses either side of an open fire in which I could put the perfect bookshelves to house my collection. Or better still a whole room to act as a library, with wing back chairs either side of a woodburner, and floor to ceiling shelves, and maybe a wheeled ladder to reach the very tops. A writing desk with an anglepoise lamp, a vintage globe cocktail cabinet for mixing the perfect drink to accompany a reading session.
For now I have shelves that are the cheapest Argos had to offer, and they are piled 2 deep and 2 high in places. Despite their modest housing I still love the look of my bookshelves. All those stories nestled together, their spines creating a warm and pleasing display. The shelves are groaning and my collection is spreading to the nearby window ledges, meaning a cull is due soon, or maybe just some more shelves!
DO pop over to Keynko and share your books/bookshelves. Maybe you have a treasured old book with beautiful colour plates to share, or a childhood favourite you have handed down to your own children. Or maybe like me you have too many to pick one favourite.
Love Miss Cisco XXX