Reading a book provides a particular kind of pleasure

22 March 2016....... Real home Emily Bronty in the Earnshaw Room at Ponden Hall, near Haworth belonging to Steve Brown and Julie Akhurst. This is the place that inspired the Brontes. Picture Tony Johnson YPN-160323-074247069

Books provide a particular kind of pleasure, don’t they?

Some people only read fiction, others only factual, and some people don’t read at all.

But for those among us who are avid bookworms, reading makes our worlds a better place.

It increases knowledge, vocabulary, our thinking skills, and it enables us to develop our world views.

Books that we read as children have a unique ability to shape us and stay with us in some small way forever.

Books that we read as adults may change the course of our lives and inspire us to take different paths, or perhaps return to those from which we have strayed.

Books are a little sub-world in which to get lost and bookworms usually reserve a small amount of pity for those poor people who just don’t get any pleasure from reading.

There literally isn’t enough time in the world to read even a fraction of the books within it.

This is a melancholy thought, but also a motivation to ensure that the books we do spend our time with are worth it.

When I was a stay-at- home mum for a few years, I was always looking for ways in which to occupy myself that involved more than just wiping someone else’s bottom.

One of those ways was a book club that I decided to set up, called the Pass It On Book Club.

We had a Facebook page where members could post photos of books that they had read, with a description, and then pull a name out of a hat from amongst the ‘likers’ of their post, and then send the book on to that person, and vice versa.

In Bosham, there is a telephone box stacked with old paperbacks as a kind of lending library.

Locals can borrow a book, add books, and share reads that they have found of interest or intrigue.

To misquote Emily Bronte: ‘I have read in my life books that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas.

‘They have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind.’


I have written before about how I have paid for white lines to be painted outside my garage, for new garage doors, and ‘Keep Clear’ stickers for them.

To no avail whatsoever.

Why is it that I wouldn’t dream of parking outside someone’s garage, causing a possible complete nuisance of myself, yet other people plant their cars outside mine for days?

The fact that the council is more than willing to issue tickets is no deterrent, it seems.

And the most ludicrous thing of all?

I’m not able to park inside my garage because, approximately 60 per cent of the time, I wouldn’t be able to get to work the next morning due to some inconsiderate soul being parked outside of it and blocking me in.


My kids and I are well-versed in the Pompey Dog Poo Sidestep on the school run.

There seems to be something about the winter that encourages a few owners to be even more remiss than normal.

Better perhaps than autumn though, when the falling leaves generally conceal the curled chipolatas of puppy poo as a special treat for the children who stamp on the crispy leaves for fun.

But the rain and bad weather, when mixed with soggy faeces, makes for a slippery and toxic combination.

If you own a dog, then why not pick up after it?

You most likely don’t smear your own shoes with poo for jokes and larks.

I don’t really want it on my shoes either.

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