When I describe them as my last two library books, I don't mean that I shall never attend the library again, just that I've got so many books lying around at home, or stored up on Kindle, that it seems slightly redundant getting some more from the library, only to have to continually worry that I will forget to take them back and incur a fine.
In fact, up until a couple of weeks ago I had one book that I was given at Christmas 2013 that I hadn't got round to reading. And this wasn't through lack of wanting to read it, but that I kept holding it back because I knew that I would enjoy it when I did read it. And part of the pleasure of that was that I was going to save it to read after some particularly awful or depressing book so that it would cheer me up.
So I walked to the library, returned my books, resisted the temptation to take out some more and walked home.
And I did a bit of thinking about being fat and about the village of Olden Glish and what it all means.
I have not yet reached any conclusions. Though I did have a half-hearted idea for a story. And I did some exercise.
But then I made 12 cakes...