Day Three – reading
Not to be confused with it’s city counterpart (no offence, Reading), this joy is really an extension of Day One. Reading is very similar to travel, in that it boils down to ESCAPISM (this is an important word so I’m making sure you know it’s important by putting it in capitals). In a fictional situation even the bad stuff isn’t as bad as in real life. The arguments, the scary moments, the nightmares, the faults (both in ourselves and in other people). What is painful in life is quite often a page-turner or a plot twist in fiction. And who doesn’t want to get lost every once in a while? Books are safer than drugs, healthier than a bag of jam donuts and cheaper than alcohol (and you’re significantly less likely to end up staring in a humiliating YouTube video as a result). My love affair with books began at a very early age. Before I was able to read them myself the responsibility fell to my long-suffering parents. I remember hearing Rudyard Kipling’s Just So stories for the first time and concluding that whoever this Mr Kipling was he was most certainly on drugs. But he allowed me to disappear into a far away place full of weird and wonderful creatures and mysterious characters and for that, I loved him. My love doesn’t only extend to books. I just adore words, and as much as I am probably the least patriotic person you will ever meet, I love the English language. Take the following sentence for example…
“James while John had had had had had had had had had had had a better effect on the teacher”.
This actually makes total sense (no really). See what I mean? Fun. Words are powerful, provocative, inspiring, beautiful and painful. They have the capacity to declare vows of promised love, the power to break somebody’s heart, we use them to pray. Life would be pretty dull without them (and downright impossible if you think about it). And as far as I can tell, the same applies to books. I will love them forever.