by B Thornton- Harwood
I’m currently working in Cambridge, which had been bloody brilliant so far; the work isn’t overly taxing, the weather has been fantastic, the ales even better. The lack of 3G or WiFi in Ridley Hall where I’m currently residing is, however, a bit of a ball ache. It’s bizarre just how reliant on what we now deem basic amenities: namely the Internet and phone reception.
I am staying in a theology college reserved for those great minds who are set on being priests, so naturally it’s all a bit behind the times. But one huge positive of living in what may as well be the 1950s is the amount I’ve been able to read over the past month, and indeed shall continue to read for (hopefully) the future.
When I was a kid I was a proper bookworm, up to the age of about 18 I read as a past time, actively picking up books for enjoyment. Then got a laptop and was introduced to the wonders of continually refreshing my Facebook and Twitter feeds, sites like Cracked and Reddit, and of course the ever growing, unrelenting stream of pornography.
After that came university and every book I picked up had to be ripped to pieces, continually scrutinising every line to pick out points for essays, at half 4 in the morning before the bastard had to be handed in.
But now I don’t have to analyse text, I don’t have to cite academics, nor make bibliographies, it’s fucking fantastic, liberating to a certain extent.
So now I’m making my way through a colossal stack of books I’ve had earmarked or sat collecting dust and I’m really rather enjoying it. As such I shall be writing a little bit about each one on here after I read it.
I hope you might read this, and perhaps enjoy it, then you might read what I’ve read and enjoy that too. If you think I might enjoy reading something that you’ve read and enjoyed let me know too, yeah? Safe.