Over the years I have gone on and on about the benefits of reading, from my own childhood to Offspring’s. So much to gain in different ways. Read more. Start, if you don’t already.
The other day I was thinking about friends. In general, I mean. I was reminded of how I have [had] many friends in the generation above – i.e. older than – me. (Now I’m so old the boot is occasionally on the other foot; I’m the old one and I have younger friends.)
I was also reminded of the fact that not all friends remain ‘current’ over the decades. And that that’s all right. Someone from my childhood might have slipped off the immediate radar, and I now receive more of my tulips from a newer friend. That sort of thing.
Have stayed good friends with (at least I hope I have) one girl from school, and chatting on Fb or exchanging Christmas cards with a few more.
And then, then I thought of my other friend from school, the ‘same’ age as me (I started too young; no one’s the same age as me), and how she reappeared in my life after a break of almost forty years. That was through books. Hers. Discovering someone from the past because she had written a book, and this leading to annual meetings and fun, thoughtful emails.
I bless the suitcase I went to buy, giving the Resident IT Consultant permission to buy a book while he waited, and it was that book. You just never know what this kind of rash behaviour might bring.
The Occasional Bookwitch 
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