I have mentioned a few times this week that my house has slowly but surely become a bit of a death trap due to incoming books (through publishers, the library but also mainly me finding bargains here there and everywhere) over the last few weeks. Well, I thought that I would share with you all just how bad things have actually got before I finally, because I still haven’t, got round to sorting them out.
Back in my old London flat, and the flat before that, I could pretty much let my books take over the house. I was deaf to my ex-husband’s pleas for actually having some space anywhere at all, I don’t think this is one of the reasons that we are ex’s, moving on… Then I moved to my aunt and uncles house and so I had a major cull and allowed myself only six boxes or paperbacks and three big duty weight bags of hardback books. Two of the boxes and the bags of books were allowed in my new room, which was the size of a small studio flat, the rest of them lived in the garage with a few boxes of the books that had read and wanted to keep when I eventually lived somewhere I could house them all.
I am now in such an abode and while I had yet ANOTHER massive cull before I moved, and then moved again to be here, and was down to the five boxes that you can see on the right hand side, which of course are now covered in piles of more books!
In fact the whole of, what I call, ‘reading corner’ has really become rather over run with books. The shelves, no more bags yippee, of hardback books are now having to be used as a shelf themselves and so has my reading chair (we are decorating so do forgive the rather shocking walls and lack of carpet, its rustic/Pompeii chic). Reading corner has actually, and literally, become TBR corner…
And forget my normal books by the bedside on my bedside table; they are now covering the bedside chair and bureau too…
It doesn’t stop in the bedroom either. Just look at the dining table, which shows the level of naughtiness I am at as I have read no Mary Stewart but bought all these as the local grocers was selling books for 10p each (so how could I not)…
Proof copies have started to decorate the table in the lounge window (where a copy of 1001 Books To Read Before You Die seems somewhat ironic)…
Library books have been popped on the hall table (well chest of drawers) and simply left there because there is frankly no room left elsewhere, though the ladder does lead to what will be the mezzanine ‘reading landing’ and spare room…
I was wondering where I had left all the books that Oxford University Press had kindly sent for Classically Challenged the other day and couldn’t find them. I scoffed when The Beard said that I had left them in the bathroom, I mean really who would do that? Oh…
Even the gorgeous shelves of books I have read is getting covered from above, even though there is space for more of them on the shelves, but that is how lazy I have been…
And as you can see even poor little Oscar is in slight fear for his life now that I have started using the coffee table…
So I guess I really better go out and sort it all out hadn’t I?
Does anyone else have the same problem? How do you go about sorting it all out? Where is the strangest place that you have ever left piles of books? Do you think this is some kind of addiction?
*Note – I did actually tidy up for these pictures, it was actually much, much, much worse.
Savidge Reads 