Confession

I came home tonight to find an answer machine message from the library, telling me that my books that I ordered are now in stock. I got excited. Quite excited in fact. I have no excuse other than it's been a very quiet week and anything book related tends to make me very happy.

I can still remember the day my Mum joined me to the local library. I thought all my Christmases and Birthdays had come at once. I suddenly had access to hundreds and hundreds of books, instead of begging and pleading with my Mum that yes I had been good that week and that buying the next Roald Dahl book/Famous Five book would indeed make me very happy.

I spent endless summers biking to the library to get my next batch of books, sometimes I would go first thing in the morning and then revisit at night, having sat all day long reading. The freedom of youth and all that.

Of course as I got older, the visits wained and as I began to work, I bought my own books as apposed to borrowing them and very rarely stepped foot into any library, which is where my list comes in. Purchasing 100 books seemed a massive financial commitment, in order to complete the BBC Top 100 list, so I decided to go back to my old haunt.

So when I go to collect my books, I'll open the door and smell that old familiar smell and feel happy and safe and all those wonderful childhood memories will come flooding back. My list is a wonderful thing.