This June weather may not be inspiring the usual barbecues and beers, but I am enjoying these rainy days to get lost in books. I visited the British Library the other day, admired the King’s Library several storeys high, and wandered the main atrium filled with the noisy bustle of shuffled papers, stirred teacups and tapping keys.
Across the hall, I was lost in a far more ancient world of parchment and quill. In the dimly lit ‘Treasures’ exhibition I peered at the notebooks of Austen, Coleridge, Carter and Wilde and marvelled at the studied carefulness of their solitary work. The room was a heady mix of ancient maps, sacred texts, and mighty tomes. I love this collection of minds, these ideas bound in paper, filled with boundless possibilities.
You can keep your Kindle; these sheets of paper is where my heart lies.