This January I made a conscious decision to hibernate. Pretend like January wasn’t happening. Like I wasn’t back into the routine of lunch prepping, commuting and other tedious facts of life. Every evening, after the kids had been put to bed, (the eldest of which was always not necessarily actually asleep, using this as a time to be at his most charming, talkative and inquisitive. Nice try, pal, go to bed.) I would get under my own duvet with a book.
I’m a reader. I’ve always been a reader. On school holidays we’d go to France for a few weeks in the summer ( the benefits of having teachers as parents, who had holidays the same time as you , and not just 20 days annual leave) and I would devour piles of books.
It’s a bit early for a 2017 round up I know, but I’ve read some excellent books this year that you might want to consider as Christmas presents for the readers in your life.
I like to read. I read greedily. I inhale books. I skim over sentences and miss out words in a bid to consume to the story quickly and completely.