For the first three months of this year I didn’t read much at all, because I was doing an intensive university course that proved to be very intense, which meant that when I got home all I could bring myself to do was stare at Netflix.
Now, however, I’m back in the swing of reading – for the moment, at least – so here’s what I read last week. Read more
Based on several things that have happened this year, I’ve been focusing my mind on doing more academic stuff in 2018. My psychology research has taken a backseat over the past couple of years, but I’d like to revive it. So currently my reading lists partly reflect that desire; there are several projects I’d love to work on, and I’m doing a bit of reading around each one to see which would be best to work on next.
I was discussing favourite childhood books with a friend the other day, and we got onto the subject of classics. “I loved The Mill on the Floss“, I told her, “and I was worried I wouldn’t like it when I reread it again a couple of years ago, but it was as wonderful as ever.”
“Hang on,” she replied, “The Mill on the Floss was required reading in Preliminary Honours in 1961. You were a precocious brat.”
Yes, yes I was.
I was in Geneva airport. It was a nine-hour layover. At night.
Not the most exciting or exotic of travel experiences.
And yet, in some ways, one of my favourites.