Charing Cross, rolling fog and Regent’s Park seem to be a part of my everyday vocabulary lately. Why you ask? No, I’m not planning a trip to England but I’m feeling like a Londoner who’s learned the secret of time travel.

By some strange coincidence the last books I’ve picked up have all been set in England, mainly London. Take a look:

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde, 1880s
Death at Devil’s Bridge, mid-1890s
Maisie Dobbs, 1929
Birds of a Feather, 1930
Full Dark House, 1940 (I’ve given up on this one though)
Saturday, present day (just started)

I’m kind of ready to “travel” elsewhere you know. In the meantime, I’m excited because tomorrow is the library book sale. I’ve got the book bag ready so I promise to post tomorrow on books bought.

Speaking of buying books, if you are trying to get the best price on a book, check out Books Price to compare prices.

The house is all in darkness except for this corner bedroom
where the lighthouse of a table lamp is guiding
my eyes through the narrow channels of print,

and the only movement in the night is the slight
swirl of curtains, the easy life and fall of my breathing,
and the flap of pages as they turn in the wind of my hand.

Is there a more gentle way to go into the night
than to follow an endless rope of sentences
and then to slip drowsily under the surface of a page….

Excerpt from Reading Myself to Sleep by Billy Collins.

Feeling tired. I’ve spent the evening running errands, watching a novela with my mom, and missing my husband who’s been away on a business trip all week. Yes, I think it’s time to curl up with a good book.

Is it the weekend yet?