The lamppost looms large in front of me, my peripheral vision, usually unused, becomes useful as I narrowly dodge the post my book still safely clutched in my hands.
I don’t remember ‘learning’ to do other things while reading but somehow it happened, from housework to walking to work I manage it all without injury and with my book still in my hand.
Reading has always been my escape, when life was difficult or boring I could climb inside whatever book or ten that I had on the go and shut out the world. It’s my favourite way to relax and the most effective method of de-stressing that I have found – in comparison to some characters’ worries mine are trivial and even if they aren’t while worrying with a character I’m not worrying for myself.
I read an average of 3 books a week and normally all of them at once, allowing the separate books to weave a truly unique story as I pick up and put down depending on the day or my mood. I’ve learned so much, over the years, from books I’ve picked up by chance which have led me to further research or reading around a particular subject or country that I never would have looked at without a book.
I remember life events, songs and places by the book I was reading when they happened, when I listened to them or when I was there. J.R.R Tolkien’s’ The Fellowship of the Ring always reminds me of a summer day to Flamingo Land in high school. Vivid characters stay with me long after a book ends leading to imagined further stories beyond what’s included on the last page.
My passion for reading lead me to The Open University in pursuit of a Literature degree four years after leaving school, my thirst for new knowledge and stories tempered by the reading lists and essay deadlines.
Yet still my hunger for reading continues and I hope based on the hundreds of books neatly stored at home that this doesn’t change anytime soon.