For those of you who didn't spend the mid-90s swooning over Blur's album Parklife, learning all the lyrics off by heart and taping their every performance on Top of the Pops (a popular music programme back in the day - ask your parents), the title of this post comes from a song called "Bank Holiday". It's a Bank Holiday today. I am working.
This weekend was spent fetching boxes of books from my parents' house. I have several thousand books. Unfortunately, as seems to be the case with so many libraries, I have nowhere to keep them. There are a few I could probably stand to get rid of - Ben Elton, chicklit I read once for a lack of anything else to do, buried under the rest of the books there are probably quite a few Point Horror books and maybe a couple of Christopher Pikes that can be disposed of (I had a terribly uncultured and lowbrow taste in reading - still do, for that matter).
But the rest I still want - lots of classics, and modern-day classics, because they just look so nice on my shelves (and make for pretty good reading too). Rows and rows of Agatha Christie, Stephen King, James Patterson (because I like sets of books) - when I have the room in my house they'll sit beside the M.C. Beatons and Terry Pratchetts that currently take up a not inconsiderable amount of room in my bookcase.
I've not brought back with me any of those though. Nope, I'm starting classy (and then plummeting down to the depths of awful, no doubt), and now I need to find shelf space for my grandmother's 1877(ish) Handy editions of Scott, cherry-red, calfbound, gold leaf on the outer edges...yummy. Pictures to follow when I get home =)
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