In our lounge room we have a wall of books, a few years ago my railway man (aka he who works) built the book case around one of the windows. A rough guess would be about 1500 books on those shelves. In the spare bedroom we have another bookcase with maybe another couple of hundred, I have around 150 cookbooks on the kitchen shelves and there are (I think) 10 boxes full of books stored out in one of the sheds..!!
Don't even get me started on the magazines...!!!
Do I need to tell you that those figures don't include my collection of quilting related books in my sewing room..?
No, didn't think I did :o)
Anyway, you get the picture, we're a book family. Always have been for as long as I can remember.
A couple of years ago I stopped enjoying reading books..!! I still listen to audio books and I still have half a dozen books on my bedside table, on the coffee table etc, but I totally lost the excitement of picking up a book and being so riveted that I would finish it that day. Losing time wrapped in a new book, the feel of all those unread pages, pure pleasure..
But it got to the stage where each story was similar to the last, I lost the excitement somehow. That was OK, things moved along and we all fill the gap with something new. I still read now and then, still enjoy a good book, but nothing made me want to sit all day until the book was finished. Until this morning...........
I picked this up at the bookstore last week, it was a relevant topic for me and I thought that I would read it soon. It sat on the coffee table with three others that I bought before I went to W.A. This morning I was up really early, like 4am early, just one of those nights where deep sleep alludes you. The railway man had gone back to work yesterday after his holidays and hadn't got home until about 1am this morning, so he would be in bed for hours still. Too early for sewing, can't stand the TV at that time so I picked up the top book off the pile....
I finished it at 11.30am with tears streaming down my face, still in pyjamas, no breakfast just copious amounts of tea..
Still Alice is about a Harvard Professor who develops Early Onset Alzheimer's disease. She is only 50 years old. The story is told by Alice and is an emotive look inside the world of an Alzheimer's sufferer. It breaks my heart to know that my mum will go this way, it scares the hell out of me that it could be my fate too! One little tiny gene could dictate how my life will or will not degenerate.
Do I want to know? Maybe, maybe not??
Would you want to know...?