It made me think, especially, of the books I inherited from my grandfather, from my godmother (and through her from Eileen Fairbairn), from my mother...
Of my childhood books which have so shaped who I am. Of my dad who, when I was very small, would sit in the children's library and read the books before choosing which ones to bring home.
Of the treasured books my mother would give me each birthday and Christmas - until she was too frail to shop.
Of all the gifted books, chosen with care and love.
Of Deb's Christmas book tree - the photos of which are buried in facebook history but which I would love to share here.
Of Sally's book 'sculptures'.
It also reminded me that, in Rijswijk and on the flight home, I read Middlemarch on my kindle. Significant for several reasons. I had never read Middlemarch - and surely a first reading of this classic should be a paper and ink experience? Did the kindle in any way impoverish the reading? It seems not. Unlike so many novels that fade rapidly, despite being enjoyed in the reading process, the characters in Middlemarch and their stories remain clear and present. What a book!
And (quietly), on Kindle it was free...
|Deb's wonderful Christmas tree|