'The next day the weather broke in a thunderstorm, and, as often happens, found some difficulty in taking itself up again.
Isobel now saw what Glenbucho could look like in bad weather. Day after day they woke to the drip-drip of rain, and after having remarked on the marvellous freshness of the garden, there was nothing for it but a fire in the living-room, and needlework and books.
"Not that I mind," said Kitty. "To a person of my temperament this weather offers a delightful opportunity for sheer sloth. I enjoy doing nothing."
"You read all the time," said Isobel. "You're improving your mind. You can't call that doing nothing."
"Not consciously improving my mind, that would take away quite half of the pleasure. I sometimes feel that my passion for reading amounts almost to a vice. At home I ration myself severely. In the morning I read the papers, the leaders, and so on [...] After that I read some solid book. After dinner (always supposing I am alone) I allow myself modern fiction till bedtime, and in bed I have twenty minutes with Jane Austen or Thackeray or Sir Walter."
"And very nice too," said Isobel.'
From The House that is Our Own by O. Douglas - which is utterly charming!
Oh yes! A passion for reading that almost amounts to a vice , that I can sympathise with ! And of course O Douglas is almost an addiction!
Posted by: diana | 03 January 2023 at 04:50 PM
Her books are such a pleasure!
Posted by: Cornflower | 03 January 2023 at 05:55 PM