Fully booked

I go through phases with reading. Sometimes I read voraciously, like a big voracious thing (similes have always been my forte). I open my book at any given minute - grabbing a few pages between two measly stops on the tube, when waiting a minute or two for a friend to meet me for lunch, sometimes even whilst brushing my teeth.

Other times, I just can't be arsed. I'll aimlessly read some shit free London paper or stare at fellow passengers or watch TV all evening.

A lot of it depends on what I'm reading at the moment. Hence Kafka = didn't do much reading at all. Lark Rise to Candleford involved equal amounts of sleeping and reading (sometimes it seemed simultaneously, or as one witty Book Club member put it: "Long Read to Boringford"). Whereas The Time Traveler's Wife and Cloud Atlas and Rebecca had me longing for tube delays, eagerly making appointments with friends who are always late... just to squeeze out a little more reading time.

At the moment I'm in one of these phases. I'm reading We Need to Talk About Kevin. I am mostly reading this because about nineteen of my friends have said, "We need to talk about We Need to Talk About Kevin," and to be honest, the linguistic trickery is getting a little thin.

So I'm reading it. And it's fab. And I think a lot of the "bad mother" thoughts myself. I'm not a mother, but I already dislike other people's children sometimes, which I think is probably a good start.

So I have to go now, because I need to tidy my flat for my cleaner and then go to bed with a very good book.

Plugging on the Plog for a while. If you enjoy reading my ramblings, would you be so kind as to make a donation to CRY? I deliberately keep my Plog advertisement free, so make no money from it at all... but if you think my near-daily stutterings are worth the price of a pint of beer or a glossy magazine, your donation would be massively appreciated by me and my family. Donation site up at www.justgiving.com/laurasplogforhannah. Thank you.