I really feel the need to read lately. No rhyming pun intended. I don’t know if it’s a form of escapism, or a quest for intelligent and thought-provoking literature, but I really want to. I’ve never made enough time in my life to read, but I’ve always enjoyed it.
I love the descriptive imagery and character depth that J.K. Rowling gives to her books and have enjoyed reading those these past few years. I suppose you could say I have “book commital issues.” Am I fearing that if I read a book and get part way through it that I’ll only be disappointed? Perhaps.
My current venture is to find out all I can on the developmental and behavioural characteristics of a 13½-month-old. Apparently landing full force onto your head after wrestling with a side table and tumbling backwards from a loveseat is not presidence enough to stop. This is merely an indication to the young undeveloped brain that more practise is required to master the feat and maintain a dominion over inanimate objects.
Websites like babycenter advise “take your child to the park” as some sort of solution or remedy. Hmm, yes, why don’t you take him Mr. Babycenter, it’s 95 degrees outside and I’m from Scotland where a good day is white cloud cover and a max temp of 70, two weeks in July.
Anyway, I seem to have been side-tracked. Ah yes, books. Any suggestions? Perhaps I will re-read Adrian Mole. I wonder if our archaic library has such books. We’ll see.
a Brit different 