Books, Books Everywhere

I swear that if it weren't for books (and Finley, and Rich, and the darn cat!), this house would be a little palace. But it isn't. Because when I take it into my pretty little head to start a-scrubbing, the stacks of books I pile everywhere suddenly come glaring into view and I am faced with a terrible truth: namely my darlings, that I am acquiring books twice as fast as I am currently capable of reading them... This is partly due to a rather exceptional Summer in terms of vintage book-hunting - and partly due to way too many visits to the free book shop. Oh yes. We have a shop where you can walk in and walk out with an armful of books for absolutely nothing. For a book lover like me, this my dears is death by literary chocolate...

So anyways there are a lot of books around. I like to imagine that this makes the house look bohemian and intelligent, but actually in a diddy little cottage like this one, stacks of books everywhere really just add to the worry that one day they will have to come dig me out from underneath these darn shelves...

And there it is in a nutshell: I wrote that last sentence as if all my books are neatly stacked on bookcases, and certainly some of them are indeed hanging out in color-coordinated fashion on the big shelves in the dining room but most of them are lounging nonchalantly at my bedside. And on the kitchen window-ledge. And at my bedside. And on the coffee table. And even in the bathroom. Oh yes. Even in the bathroom.

There are in fact books everywhere: and they are stacked according to type because it struck me today that I do something terribly odd - I read books according to location in the house. In the bedroom I read Liverpool based war-time romances and cosy mysterys -books that do not challenge my brain when I can barely keep my eyes open. In the living room, I read vintage hardbacks in delicious colors: silly domestic dramas and gorgeous old school stories. In the bathroom I read self-help books. Now I don't quite know what this says about me, but this is indeed how I read self-help books - in bite-sized chunks throughout the day. Too much information? Yep I thought so, but anyways... in the laundry room I read cookbooks, flicking through the pages of my cookbook of the week as I fold laundry. On the landing upstairs I stack library books on the  little oak bookcase, and next to my computer I pile up anything I think I might need to make reference to here on BrocanteHome...

Is it any wonder I never seem to finish a book? I'm usually reading ten at once...

On My Wishlist...