I tend to go crazy in bookshops.

I enter with a reasonable intention of a book to help me tide over the tedium of studying, but the walk back to car involves packages heavier than I thought possible.

Here's what I bought though (and for the life of me, I still can't choose among them)

Dear Undercover Economist- economic jargon to explain marriage, insurance, and, in short, life.

A Short History of Nearly Everything, Bill Bryson- ambition soars high.

Something by Richard Feynman, because I've never read him before and I really, really should for the purpose of edification (also, it seemed irresistibly tempting)

And, for a light read, a book by Sebastian Faulks. I need some fiction.

In addition, my brother bought an Eva Ibbotson and a Christie, which I will doubtless end up reading.

Oh yes, I study, too.

I have serious suspicions that I wouldn't mind spending my life in a dark room, lined with books going round in spirals, from floor to ceiling. And a window seat to read in. I can't understand why libraries are out to 'remove the mistaken notion that libraries are dark rooms with musty books'. That's exactly why I like them...