I have not read a book in time to write a weekly review this week; I have not felt the motivation. With summer books and holiday reads being discussed and recommended I am coming to accept that I am not a big summer reader. Yes, I have made my way through a fair few books so far this year, but the majority of my literature was devoured in the colder darker months of the year.
I enjoy curling up, knee high slipper socks on, book in hand, in my living room while the world sits in early darkness. As soon as summer hits I feel a sense of guilt that really, I should be socialising; the weather is no longer making my toes white so I should thank nature for giving me a few months of consistent blood circulation by frolicking in its greenery.1 So come the summer I find myself less inclined to spend most my evenings reading.
Weather; all I talk about is books and the bloody weather.
- I don’t frolic; frolicking and I met once, we had a fight. [↩]