HI

For years I’ve thought I didn’t really have a ‘thing’-no specific hobby, no distinct style: I’ve dabbled into any creative area I fancied at the time, worn whatever I liked, never really feeling like anything defines me. It’s only recently that I’ve realised that my ‘thing’ is my love of books. The one constant in my life. Some of my most distinct memories growing up revolve around what I’ve written or read. I remember being mortified at one of my first parents’ evenings at about 5/6 years old when my mum, unbeknownst to me, took a story I’d written at home and brought it with her. I sat horrified as my teacher read my inner most creative thoughts. I now understand mum’s motive in proudly showing her my development, and a 6-year-old writing in continuous prose with pretty accurate spelling is quite impressive. However, always being a private person, this profound embarrassment will probably stick with me for the rest of my life.

A fonder memory includes me, at about 8 years old, waiting for mum to pick me up from skipping club (probably the only ‘sport’ I’ve ever engaged with) on a Tuesday evening, carefully selecting the four books I’d read that week from the library next to my primary school, and repeating the process the following Tuesday. I was never forced to read, and I’m thankful I spent so much of my childhood reading, cultivating the skills that have brought me so far intellectually today. Students I’ve taught English have asked me ‘how do you know all this?’ and I think I owe it all to reading.

I intend for this blog to be a personal space, beyond basic reviews and book photography, but an insight into my life, almost diary like: how books fit into my days. I'll be candid: it took disaster after disaster to find my love of books again. I've had a tumultuous year living in Manchester, consisting of some of the best times with my lovely boyfriend and friends, and extreme lows in discovering the university and the two courses I tried there were absolutely horrendous and plummeting me into some pretty dark times, followed by the sad loss of my grandpa and other hard times I couldn't have prepared myself for. I had an amazing support system in my loved ones to find the courage to drop out of uni (hi yes I'm a university drop out) and apply for courses at universities that excite me. I'm in a better place than ever before, and although I thank the individuals that helped me, books were my absolute therapy. Since the first moment of darkness, I lost myself in literature again and haven't stopped. 

Books have created my life, and also saved it at times.