I have this recurring fantasy of being snowbound somewhere, with my Kindle and little else…
Yes, I know, usually it is a desert island, but I’m not partial to desert islands. For one thing, being ridiculously phobic, I don’t want to even begin imagining the insects… Then, how do you recharge your eReader on a desert island?* I’m most definitely not the Crusoe-ish sort who devises a power-cell with a bowl of fruit and a pair of sunglasses – which also raises questions of more immediate survival, such as shelter, food, water… Frankly, unless it were a very Shakespearean island, complete with a practical-minded Ariel, odds are I’d be dead long before recharging the Kindle became a concern.
Snow, on the other hand… You can be snowbound in lots of very nice, well supplied places, most of them sporting a fireplace and a working generator, just in case. Plus, I love snow and snowfalls to distraction.
So, as I said, I have this fantasy of being snowbound somewhere nice, with my Kindle, plenty of tea, and little more. I have it every time I consider my arm-long To Read List. And every time I am either given a book, or tempted to buy one.** And every time I receive a parcel from the HNR. And every time I unearth from the Internet Archive something I’ve desperately wanted to read. And every time I can give myself one little reading afternoon. And every time I finish a book and peruse the list wondering what next…
All of which means that, more or less, I daily dream of being snowed-in – and I’ll be the first to admit it doesn’t sound spectacularly sane. But I so want to read more, and you know those So Many Books – So Little Time thingies you find by the cartful on Pinterest? Well, they have ceased to be funny. Long ago.
I don’t suppose there is any point in asking, do you have reading lists of biblical proportions – because yes, of course you do… The question then is: have you worked out how to deal with yours – especially if you live in a place where it snows once in donkey’s years?
ETA: It’s early afternoon, and two more books have just landed in my mailbox. Claire Groove and Stephen Wyatt’s So You Want to Write Radio Drama (and yes, I do), and a second/third hand copy of John Masefield’s Live and Kicking Ned. I clearly don’t have the smallest trace of sense…
* And if you are thinking books would be a better alternative – as I did for a minute – think again: how do you get shipwrecked on a desert island with dry books?
** Which, considering my utter inability to resist temptations, usually results in one more book.