This is the sort of day that I love. I have no immediate commitments; it’s cold enough so that I can (and have, and did) justify lighting the fire; rain is plinking away on the roof of the conservatory; and having recently crossed a couple of numerological milestones, I have a lovely, luxurious pile of books to completely lose myself in. As my favourite Dutch Renaissance humanist, Catholic priest, and theologian, Erasmus, was wont to say:
When I get a little money I buy books; and if any is left I buy food and clothes.
God, I love that man.
Rain, fire, a comfy chair, a pile of books and a whole afternoon to spend with them. I can’t think of anything that would make this any better. Bliss!
Ooh, I hadn’t noticed before (and it could be the hot chocolate talking), but the word ‘bliss’ even sounds a bit like pages turning – bliss. Can’t you hear that? The pages sliding against each other, across each other, making that crisp little kiss sound as they kick off from each other to turn. Bliss. Bliss. Bliss, bliss, blisblissbliss [speed reading], bliiiiisssssssssssss …
Now excuse me while I go wallow.