A big box of new books!

Debbie and I returned from an enjoyable Saturday morning of horses, dogs, cafe breakfasts and shopping to find that the postman - or more likely a small team of strong postmen with a forklift delivery van - had left an enormous, and enormously heavy, cardboard crate on our doorstep. Although the morning's shopping included some delicious-looking scones and 3 big sacks of dog-agility equipment, the unpacking of that load was put on hold as the mighty box was hauled into the living room and carefully cut open. Inside the box, under the protective flaps, beneath the enveloping bubble-wrap: books! Mostly, in fact, one enormous book: the Times Atlas. It is, by far, the biggest book I own. Or have ever owned. It may be the biggest book I will ever own. I am very pleased with it. I don't think that I could have brought myself to pay the £150 that is printed on the back of it's protective sleeve-box, but that's only because I am so mean. I don't doubt that the book is indeed worth that amount, especially to somebody who likes to look at maps as much as I do! In fact, perhaps, thinking about it, I would have paid for it if I had to. I actually got my copy for, er, nothing. It was a "free gift" as part of my Folio Society subscription deal. Also in the delivery today were three other books, each in its own protective sleeve-box, and a note that two further books that I ordered are not yet printed and will be delivered in due course.

It is always exciting getting deliveries by post, but somehow with books, especially when you get several delivered at once, the prospect is much more delightfully drawn out than with the delivery of, say, a gadget or a toy. The gadget or toy can be unpacked and in full service within moments, and often you can have seen everything that it can do within half an hour. Sure, you can look forward to doing it some more, but the discovery phase is over and it is only the continued use phase that lies ahead. By contrast, with a book, all of the discovery continues to lie ahead even after everything is unpacked and played with. There is still the reading. Every page could hold a new delight, and you won't know until you read your way slowly, gradually, through the pile of books exactly what those delights will turn out to be. Indeed, often one reading is not enough: you know that several readings, perhaps over many years, will gradually release drop by drop the pleasure of this new purchase. In the case of a reference book like an Atlas or an Encyclopaedia this pleasure of anticipation is in addition to the knowledge that you have also acquired a valuable tool, rather like a good power-drill that you know you can get out of the cupboard when the need arises. With my new Atlas, and a small winch, I am confident that I will be well placed to know what's where for the foreseeable future.