I’ve never counted the number of books I own, because I think it would scare me. It’s definitely somewhere in the triple figures, but other than that I don’t even want to guess. Every year I have the struggle of choosing which books to take from my gargantuan bookcases at home and transport to my university accommodation, where they pile up on the floor* and glare at me as they get slowly dusty**. Continue reading “On the book struggles of moving to Spain”
In which I recount hitting a new level of procrastination, feel bewildered by Philip Pullman’s Grimm Tales, and do a bit of squealing.
You know those really long internet searches where one thing leads to another and another and before you know it three hours have slipped by? I fell into one of those cyberspace sinkholes one thundery Thursday (aptly enough) a few weeks back when I really should have been busy packing up all my stuff from uni. But instead of emerging from that sinkhole with only a spinning head and a sense of guilt and mild panic at the amount of time spent staring at arrays of pixels, I also surfaced with an excited determination to go out and buy The Bird King and other sketches by Shaun Tan. Continue reading “On the discovery of Shaun Tan in a cyberspace sinkhole”