14 July 2010


I did not mean to buy books here. It's silly to buy books in pounds (multiple senses) and have to get them home. I only went in the book exhibit because I overslept, and I was so late to the first session, where I could see people sitting on the floor already, that I decided to bag it and just kill a bit of time before walking over to Weetwood for the second session.

$ $ $ $ $ $ $ $

Some time later, I emerged the owner of a facsimile I have coveted for some time. My library's copy has been charged to me for about three years. Now I can return it, and use it for teaching purposes, while I have my very own one for research. Squeee! And then there are the lovely books I acquired from the very helpful (and in one case quite toothsome) young men at the U of Wales Press. And a book from B&B that is really quite perfect for helping me plan my fall courses. There might be one or two other things off a sale table. That doesn't really count.

There are several other books I would like to own, which I have heroically resisted! I'm not working on those topics right this minute, and when I get to them I'll get the library copies for awhile, and then maybe they'll come out in paperback or I'll score a review copy or something. So I didn't buy so many books as I might have.

It's a disease. Or an occupational hazard. Not my fault. And I didn't mean to. But I'm not sorry, at least not now. Check with me when I'm struggling with my luggage, later.


medieval woman said...

toothsome Welsh men selling books? It's just like all those lovely peeps at the last NCS, remember??

Dame Eleanor Hull said...

MW, do you mean I should be wise to their blandishments?

Bavardess said...

If buying books is a disease, then count me amongst those who are chronically afflicted! I vividly remember my last night in a Paris hostelry a few years ago, trying to figure out how many shoes left behind would equal the books I wanted to bring home.