I've realised recently that I really want to read a book.
Thanks to the drudgery that is medical school I spend too many hours reading boring PowerPoint slides and textbooks. It is now at the point where I almost despise the idea of doing any more reading than I absolutely have to. Almost.
Then I walked through a bookshop yesterday. An old familiar joy welled up inside me, a smile played about my lips as I gingerly thumbed a couple of books that looked interesting. I long for a story. For people, not nondescript text or information that I just have to memorise.
Ever since getting a shiny new kindle for my birthday last year I have done precious little more reading than I hoped I would. Unfortunately this is the wrong time of year to get into an all consuming reading habit, enjoyable as it would be :(
I think I'll have to settle for small amounts of reading for pleasure scattered in between hours of revision in the library. It might help to keep my spirits up over the next three months.
