I shared a very large house with Ivan and Liz for 9 years. I could happily buy as many books as I liked and they would be easily swallowed up in the vast spaces available everywhere. This house was actually in CLAPHAM for the benefit of those “friends” and “relatives” who I have subsequently to my horror learned always secretly thought we lived in St Ockwell.
NOT STOCKWELL. CLAPHAM CLAPHAM CLAPHAM !!!
However, these days I do indisputably live in the Clapham heartlands, albeit in a tiny little flat. Foolishly, I took all 19 meters of my books (I remember the number because I had to measure for the mover’s quote and he said he had to come round “to see what 19 meters of books looks like”.
Well, it fills my spare room.
Need to use the room now, so have been studiously de-accessioning to the Trinity Hospice Charity shop over the past several weeks. I reckon I’ve got rid of at least 4 meters. I spent the weekend moving the bookcases (and books) into the sitting room. I now measure 18 meters of books.
The mis-match is possibly because I am adding books almost as quickly as I am getting rid of them. Sheesh. I really haven’t bought a book for ages and ages. Except for the one I bought on Saturday.
Monday, April 14, 2008
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