Just about anything else you care to mention.  For example –

I’d rather read than go to the dentist, sort out my bank statement, weed my garden, wash dishes, clean windows, wash my car, give my cat a pill, take my cat in the car to the vet (ultimate horror experience),  or deal with the South African Revenue Service (SARS).  On reflection, dealing with SARS gets the Ultimate Horror Nomination, probably followed by visiting the dentist.  Clearly the aforegoing list is a complete no-brainer.  I mean, honestly now, who really wants to go to the dentist?  Really and truly? I challenge anyone to nominate dentist visits onto the My Favourites List.

I’d rather read than go to the movies or watch second-rate TV schlock; or listen to a worthy, improving lecture. I’d rather read than attend a music concert, classical, rock or pop concert, makes no difference. Reading for me!

I’d rather read than go sunbathing at the beach.  I’d definitely rather read than go hiking. I’d rather read than go to an exercise class.(Duh). I’d rather read than attend a formal dinner. I’d rather read than attend a cocktail party, or play Bingo.  What am I saying?  Bingo belongs in the first paragraph.  I have signed an oath in blood not to play Bingo. No-no-no-no: I refuse.  It’s official.

I might put down my book to go out and eat sushi. I would put down my book to rush to an annual book sale – can’t resist them. I would carefully close my book, drag out the glad rags, and go to the theatre. I would instantly snap my book shut to go and play Mah Jong.  I would pack my books, and possibly a few clothes, at the prospect of a family visit up country, or for an overseas trip. I would briefly abandon my book to play Bookworm on line, or Wordblox on Facebook.

I would happily close my book to receive a friend into my house. And I would cast my book aside with a wild shriek of abandon and head for my boudoir should my lover come calling. Erotica between book covers is no substitute for erotica under the covers. Prolonged, dedicated research on my part has proved this.

So there you have it. The bottom lines for my reading.  Re-reading this I realize that booze and chocolate have been left out of the lists. Perhaps I should slip them in somewhere.  And I notice I have left out shopping for clothes.  I could put my book down for an hour or two to torture myself in my favourite dress shop.  When you get older it’s a constant challenge to find garments that disguise the wrinkly, droopy, saggy bits. That’s the joy of reading: no matter how old and wrinkly you may be, you can always find a book that fits you; your book covers open obligingly and invite you inside for hours of companionable pleasure, no matter how over-weight you may be, no matter how spotty, greasy, sun-burned, blotchy or otherwise generally unattractive you might currently be.

I’m off to dust and sort my bookshelves, and then settle down with a cup of coffee and my latest book.  See ya later.  Much later.



6 responses to “I’D RATHER READ THAN …

  1. Reading is also high on my priority list but a visit to the dentist does not fill me with dread. I have not escaped the run of scaling, fillings, injections, root canal excavation and denture fittings. However, that dentist chair, the modern variety, is the most perfectly engineered piece of furniture. Once cushioned in its contours, all tension drains. In fact, as conversation with the dentist is rendered impossible a book holding device with automatic page turner would be a welcome addition to the dental furniture.


  2. orchid

    love , love reading too.. so glad to read your post, it describes how i feel on certain times 🙂
    i don’t buy expensive clothes, bags, shoes that most ladies like but i splurge on books..


  3. I need to learn to play Mah Jong.

    I once had a copy of Frank Yerby’s An Odor of Sanctity literally fall apart in my hands (it was a 1960s paperback I swiped from my grandmother in the late 90s when I was in college). It is no longer in print, so the loss was terrible.

    I teared up. I did. I was in a funk for days. I had read that book tens of times, it was like visiting with a comfortable old friend who told exciting stories. And then it was gone.

    Tragedy all around.


    • I remember Frank Yerby’s books from my childhood days – I wasn’t supposed to read them (of course I did) becos they described womens’ breasts and other verboten grown-up topics like passion and s-e-x (shhh) . I don’t remember being particularly affected by his books, other than the verboten passages that is.


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