A strange thing happened to me last night.
I came home around 11, was about to read in bed for a while when I looked up at the bookshelves (groaning at me softly and insistently at the best of times) and…
I started spring cleaning.
I decided to readjust everything so the shelves on the right would only have ones I hadn’t read yet. Make it easier when I’m going to pick something new. I’d just finished the Alastair Cooke Letters From America 69-79 I mentioned earlier and, an hour later, when everything was reorganised and looking a bit more orderly I picked my new one – a creepy 1974 edition of Daphne du Maurier short stories:
Three things struck me.
(1) You’d run away with Julie Christie. You really would. Even crazy Julie Christie.
(2) There was a name inscribed on the inside – Judith C. Jones. I liked that. A bit of history. I wonder who she was, when she owned it, what she did…
(3) 1 down, 84 to go…