I’ve finally taken my huge old bookcase to the tip and downsized with something far nicer. This left me with over 100 books to get rid of, mainly hardbacks. I don’t have much room in this flat and under my bed is already loaded with boxes of, guess what, books. I’ve taken two bagfuls to the book skip nearby but that’s now full.
It wasn’t too difficult to select the ones for the tip – a lot of the books were 25p jobs from the local library book sale. I don’t think I would ever have got round to reading Vanity Fair, or The Dreyfus Affair, or a biography of Trollope, so they all went the hoy. There are some novels in there too- Adrian Mole and Cancer Ward are two.
I have to confess that when I put my new shelves up, some of the books that survived the cull were chosen solely because of the condition of their spines. This meant that while Ricky Tomlinson’s Celebrities, My Arse survives, that literary heavyweight War & Peace goes the journey. I’m hanging onto some books, despite their poor condition, because I like them. The Loneliness of the Long-distance Runner is a bit shabby but I will be reading it again at some point.
Of course, in the not too distant future there will undoubtedly come a time when I will be searching for something to read