Mostly they had just been mouldering in our attic.I hadn't even been up there in six years until the end of last week.. It was clear that the books were just filling space.and I needed to be ruthless. But getting rid of them certainly didn't make me feel good. In fact I felt I had somehow betrayed them.At the recycling centre there is a big green bin with a a roof and a tipping shelf. The idea is that you pop your books on that shelf and drop them into the void. Later the books are sorted and some end up being donated to charities while others are simply pulped.
Unfortunately, as I approached the book bin I could see that it was already jam-packed. I had to borrow a long-handled brush to push the book donations deeper into the bin, creating space for my own car full. Wirh effort and will I managed to force all of my books inside. It was as if they were reluctant to go in and if they could have made noise I am sure they would have been squealing out painful complaints.
Every book I ever read meant something to me and contributed to my development and thinking. I mourn their loss even though there are another thousand or more books downstairs - threatening to burst our other bookshelves apart.
I didn't photograph all of the books I discarded today - just a small sample of them -knowing that I would be blogging about this unremarkable but personally momentous event. The beautyful ones are not yet born. Farewell old friends and thank you!