this makes me very happy

A pile of new books, patiently awaiting my indulgence.

Possible new friends, new adventures, new perspectives. Possible heart-break, possible nightmares... A new all-time, life-time favourite could be waiting for me in this batch, or I could be disappointed with all of them (though with a Paul Auster there I think this'll be unlikely). There are very few things on earth which fill me with delicious anticipation as much as a stack of new, unopened, as yet unread, books.

I have to credit my Mum twice over for my love of reading. Firstly I do believe it gets carried over in the genes, but secondly, to read to your children is one of the greatest gifts you can give them, and my Mum read to us every day from when we were babies.

She's a clever lady as I've mentioned before, she knew that nurturing our inner book worms had a long-term advantage for her too.

On Saturday mornings we'd go down to village, we'd run some errands, each be given 50 cents (later it got upped to a whole 1 rand!) to spend on sweets and then we'd make our weekly pilgrimage to the library. She'd gotten us so hooked on the printed word that we weren't terribly discerning, which was a good thing in a small, conservative, mainly-Afrikaans village library, and leaving there on a Saturday morning, with a new pile of books in my arms, I would feel exactly the same twitchy, anticipatory excitement which the above pictured pile gives me today.

Oh, and to get to the clever part, my 2 brothers and I would happily spend Saturday afternoons lying on our beds, eating our sweeties and reading quietly, while my Mum no doubt did exactly the same! I still remember those afternoons as some of my fondest childhood memories. 

And finally, contrary to the popular saying; always judge a book by its cover. This cover is so beautiful I'm going to be terribly unhappy if the book is shite. I'll let you know!