I have always loved reading, but I have not always had time to read. I have also always loved to be surrounded by books. I have fond and vivid memories of the shelves running the length of my bedroom wall when I was a girl, packed full of wonders and treasures, such as The Wind in the Willows, many of Agatha Christie’s novels, and old favourites like Enid Blyton’s Mallory Towers series.
2016 was the best reading year I have had for a long time. In recent past times, my work gradually took an ever increasingly tight stranglehold on my time, energy and head-space. The result was that although I started many books, I rarely finished anything. Happily, my circumstances have very much changed for the better, and one of the miraculous consequences has been that last year I was able to enjoy and, yes even finish, just over 50 books.