So the strangest thing is happening, my bedroom appears to be alive. It is a room with four walls the same as everyone else, but its an avid coffee drinker, or at least an avid ' half-drank' coffee drinker. Every time I wake up or leave the room and come back there appears to be another half drank coffee to welcome me with its cold hand. Not only this, but I am surrounded by books, on the bookshelf where they belong, collected like tupawear over the years for their colour, their title, there 'something about them' quality, have all a sudden started leaping off my shelf in the middle of the night and getting comfortable on the pillow next to me? Books that I have no memory of choosing or wanting to read so desperately in the early hours of the morning.
The latest surprise guest in my bed is a book called 'Tom Jones' by Henry Fielding. When I peeled the covers back and revealed her colourful attire and vintage sophistication I was flattered she had found her way to my bed, so I started to go through her pages ( half a cup of coffee in hand ) and instantly hypnotised by its humour and interest, the opening contains commentary by Kenneth Hopkins who I adore, describing this as the most essential read of anyone with an interest in literature, and she has been sitting on that shelf for many years waiting to be noticed!
Past me walked into a charity shop and purchased this for future me, and I cannot thank her enough.
So thats what im reading now and by the size of her, ill be reading her until the end of time !
Ill keep you up to date on how I find her.