Yes! I confess. I was not read to as a child.
On the way back from the knicker making workshop in Bath last week, I travelled with Shivani, Jane, Mela and Mr. Mela and what an interesting train ride it was. The topic somehow fell on books after I said I was sorry for Noah because I had no interest in reading to him. I’m sure some people will consider that a grave crime, punishable by death. I don’t. I was not read to as a child, and I struggle to see how different my life would have been if I was. Sure, nightly dates with my step-mom might have resulted in me knowing the difference between Gryffindor and Slytherine before I was 3 years old, but apart from that, nada. Was there anyone else who was not read to as a child apart from Shivani and myself?
So the theory is that it could go 2 ways. Either you grow up having no interest in books, or you become a bookworm, forever trying to make up for all the lost time. Is that what is happening to me? I have this addiction ( I refuse to call it anything else) to buying books. It is even worse than my fabric buying addiction. I know, I know, I should seek medical help. Who knows, it might be clinically proven that addiction comes as a result of years of childhood deprivation. It might also explain this.
I recently ordered 15 books within 24 hours. I kid you not. 10 are here, 5 more are on their way. Do I need to go to the hospital? Does anyone else have this urge. The only other person I know who buys too many books, is Claire ( Sorry Claire, I am not going down alone). Mind you, all the Singer books were acquired for less than £3 each including posting. So no, I am not rich. Just an addict.
I bought one singer sewing book, and when I saw how good it was, I went on a mission. I am trying to collect all the relevant ones. I really love that they have actual pictures in them, and are very informative. I should do a proper review on them at some point.
What is a jetted pocket?
or your back?
Okay, back to my blog redesign. New skills to learn. Have a good weekend everyone.