My sentimental Christmas drabbles came to an end a while ago, first I forgot and then we found out our worst fears were realised and that Grandad wasn’t going to get better. Christmas got pretty much cancelled from there. 

Sitting in the pub this morning before my Dad and I went into the sea for our sponsored swim was the most Christmassy we’ve felt this holiday. That’s only because of how well decorated the place was – it looked like an elf threw up.

So I’ve been diving back into my books. I managed the Songs of the Lioness quartet in a day but it’s taken me longer to get through The Immortals books – still on book two. But wow I forgot how much I loved them. Picking up an old book is like putting on your favourite boots – how well it fits, how quickly it forms to what you remember. I built up Tortall in my mind when I was 11 and even now, many moons later, it’s just still there. Just within grasp and all it takes is opening the first page and the smell of the books. 

I am going to have to get a move on with reading them though if I want to get through them before my essays take over.


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