SOMEWHERE in the middle of my Netflix-induced coma on Thursday, I realised that what I really wanted to do was read something.
Between Facebook, the app on my phone that buzzes at me every time a friend wants to play Yahtzee and my beloved Netflix, reading has gone by the wayside of late and that has left me feeling sad.
There's nothing like reading to give one a bit of escapism.
I'm addicted to Nora Ephron. Her book Heartburn is practically my Bible and her columns are fantastically witty, her observations always on the money.
A few weeks ago I reread all her books and it was as delightful as the first time I read them. I've never met Nora of course, but her writing makes me think of her as a dear friend rather than a writer of screenplays and novels.
During the Easter break my parents had family visiting and we sat around the table talking about our favourite books.
It was interesting to hear from my younger cousins which books they were reading in school and whether or not they liked Harry Potter (they don't but I do. I really, really do).
This weekend I'm going to stop binge watching old episodes of Party of Five and I'm not even going to check what has recently been added to Netflix.
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