I never read an awful lot as a child. I found it neither aesthetically enjoyable nor intellectually stimulating. However, while at university reading became a matter of course (literally). Though I did not always enjoy grinding my way through essays on the Early Modern era, reading did become a key part of my routine in a way it had not before.
One of the most enjoyable solitary pursuits at university was when I read something which was not course related. I didn't have a lot of time for this though, for there was only so much energy I had for reading and most of it did indeed get used up plowing through the archives.
It was only once I graduated that I began to take reading a little more seriously. I began to miss the simple pleasure of sitting down and digesting words.
When I was in Peru in October I spent quite a lot of time looking through the books on the shelves of our hosts. Though they were mainly in Spanish or French, the idea of reading began to appeal to me a little more. It just seemed like a very civilized pass time.
I had brought along some English books with me. One was a copy of Around the World in Eighty Days, a book I had actually taken out from the school library around ten years earlier and had never returned. I read it while in Peru and left it as a gift for my fifteen-year-old cousin, who had a few other Verne titles on his shelf. I also took along Robert Bartlett's The Making of Europe, a text I had supposed to have read in 2nd year at university but had never got round to. I didn't finish it in the end. Like the period itself, the book was ostensibly dull.
By the time I returned from Peru I had settled to the idea that book reading was an excellent passtime, and was often far more rewarding than staring vapidly at the computer. Not that there is anything wrong with computers, but you must remember that a computer is simply a tool. A servant. You must not let it become your master. And I could not let myself spend every night tapping away at my machine until my eyelids started to bat and my head sway with fatigue. Reading represented a nice inbetween, a bridge between the work of the day and sleep.
Anyway, here's what I've read since starting the Log
Stanislaw Lem, The Star Diaries (1971) - 275 pages
Morris Kline, Mathematics in Western Culture (1953) - 526 pages
Jonathan Swift, Gulliver's Travels (1726) - 316 pages
One of the most enjoyable solitary pursuits at university was when I read something which was not course related. I didn't have a lot of time for this though, for there was only so much energy I had for reading and most of it did indeed get used up plowing through the archives.
It was only once I graduated that I began to take reading a little more seriously. I began to miss the simple pleasure of sitting down and digesting words.
When I was in Peru in October I spent quite a lot of time looking through the books on the shelves of our hosts. Though they were mainly in Spanish or French, the idea of reading began to appeal to me a little more. It just seemed like a very civilized pass time.
I had brought along some English books with me. One was a copy of Around the World in Eighty Days, a book I had actually taken out from the school library around ten years earlier and had never returned. I read it while in Peru and left it as a gift for my fifteen-year-old cousin, who had a few other Verne titles on his shelf. I also took along Robert Bartlett's The Making of Europe, a text I had supposed to have read in 2nd year at university but had never got round to. I didn't finish it in the end. Like the period itself, the book was ostensibly dull.
By the time I returned from Peru I had settled to the idea that book reading was an excellent passtime, and was often far more rewarding than staring vapidly at the computer. Not that there is anything wrong with computers, but you must remember that a computer is simply a tool. A servant. You must not let it become your master. And I could not let myself spend every night tapping away at my machine until my eyelids started to bat and my head sway with fatigue. Reading represented a nice inbetween, a bridge between the work of the day and sleep.
Anyway, here's what I've read since starting the Log
Stanislaw Lem, The Star Diaries (1971) - 275 pages
Morris Kline, Mathematics in Western Culture (1953) - 526 pages
Jonathan Swift, Gulliver's Travels (1726) - 316 pages
Alistair Cooke's American Journey (1945) - 310 pages
Robin Skelton, Two hundred poems from the Greek Anthology (1971) - 76 pages
Jo Swinnerton, The London Pocket Companion (2008) - 143 pages
There was a spell for about there months (mid Feb to mid May) where I hardly read at all, though I'm not quite sure why.
Currently reading a few others, namely Imperium by Robert Harris, Crashes by Robert Beckman and Major: A Political Life by Anthony Seldon, my old headmaster. I'm also half way through Harrington on Cash Volume I, but am in no hurry to read that as I've sort of grown a bit bored of poker.
What's that, bored of poker?
It's not chronic boredom. I haven't grown out of it. I just don't want to spend too much of my spare time playing it, particularly not online tournaments. (Indeed, I have not played at all this month). However, I still relish the prospect of playing some UKIPT/GUKPT side events, which will be coming to Brighton in July and September respectively.
My financial situation is fairly vague at the moment (long story), but I would like to go to the 1/1 tables at the Vic some time this year with at least five full-buy ins (200BB) once I have a sufficient bank roll.
Am wondering whether to post this on Three Men on a Blog. Probably not. It doesn't really go with the blog dyanmic at the moment. Of course, as I represent 33% of the authorship, I have a role in setting what that dyanmic is. But as a general rule, the more a blog post is about me (rather than about a thing) the more likely I would be to post it here.
Robin Skelton, Two hundred poems from the Greek Anthology (1971) - 76 pages
Jo Swinnerton, The London Pocket Companion (2008) - 143 pages
There was a spell for about there months (mid Feb to mid May) where I hardly read at all, though I'm not quite sure why.
Currently reading a few others, namely Imperium by Robert Harris, Crashes by Robert Beckman and Major: A Political Life by Anthony Seldon, my old headmaster. I'm also half way through Harrington on Cash Volume I, but am in no hurry to read that as I've sort of grown a bit bored of poker.
What's that, bored of poker?
It's not chronic boredom. I haven't grown out of it. I just don't want to spend too much of my spare time playing it, particularly not online tournaments. (Indeed, I have not played at all this month). However, I still relish the prospect of playing some UKIPT/GUKPT side events, which will be coming to Brighton in July and September respectively.
My financial situation is fairly vague at the moment (long story), but I would like to go to the 1/1 tables at the Vic some time this year with at least five full-buy ins (200BB) once I have a sufficient bank roll.
Am wondering whether to post this on Three Men on a Blog. Probably not. It doesn't really go with the blog dyanmic at the moment. Of course, as I represent 33% of the authorship, I have a role in setting what that dyanmic is. But as a general rule, the more a blog post is about me (rather than about a thing) the more likely I would be to post it here.
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