For me Christmas without books isn’t really Christmas. After the food has been eaten, the wine drunk and the TV watched there is nothing better than curling up on the sofa with a new book.
This year I’ve been especially lucky. Family came bearing boxes, with a huge variety, ranging from Caroline Duffy’s Christmas Poem ‘Wencelas’ to Orhan Pamuk’s ‘The Museum of Innocence’ and on a less demanding scale, I found David Walliam’s ‘ Gangsta Granny’ in my stocking.
Thanks to my kids and their partners I’ve been introduced to writers I’ve not read before, others I know and have never read and some I would never have thought of reading. All are treats in store and will last me months into 2015.
The books I’ve given should give an equal amount of pleasure.
Who could fail to be delighted, amused and touched by Jan Edward’s ‘Sussex Tales,’ of have their hearts wrung by the selection of stories in ‘It Never Was Worth While’ by Jem Shaw and Malcolm Havard?
And now I have to get on with my reading.