I have a confession to make. For those of you that don’t know I’m a total and utter book worm. Crazy about books. To the point where one just never seems to be enough. I can easily have two or three books on the go. And sometimes that’s not even enough. I blame my Mum for this ‘problem’ for she read books or made up stories for me in bed each night as far back as I can remember.
I love most everything about books. Especially older, pre-loved ones. I love their fragrance. It’s like all the time of readers gone by has been captured in amongst the pages and exudes out every time the book is opened thereafter.