The books have taken over

I'm flitting next Thursday. So far I've packed up the clothes, bags, shoes, scarves, hats, gloves, socks,
dishes, glasses, towels and bed linen. I've been chucking things out as I go and, when I hesitate, reminding myself: four great big rooms into three wee rooms doesn't go so get chucking!

Tonight I started on the books: I made up four boxes and labelled them 'Bin', 'Oxfam', 'Store' and 'New House'. I'm trying to be rational about this: books I don't read but that are of sentimental value go into store. Books I use or am going to need like dictionaries (just why is my spelling so bad these days?) go to the new house, along with my favourite books like those by James Robertson, Iain Banks and Jane Austen. Books that were fashionable 30 years ago or are fashionable now but not likely to be read again - at least not by me - go to Oxfam. The rest go in the bin.

It's not working. The 'store' box is full to the brim, as is the 'Oxfam' box. There's next to nothing in the 'bin' - just a paperback copy of an Evelyn Waugh story that has finally fallen apart and a few collections of pieces by Alan Coren that are not coming back into fashion any time soon. As for the 'new house' box, I caught myself about to put in most of my books in French and Russian, plus books of poetry, books about movies, not to mention a shelf of plays from my degree course (1973) and about 50 travel books about Scotland and assorted European countries - probably all out of date. At that point, I called a halt. I'll look at it all again tomorrow.

I love books. The first books I ever owned were in a gift set my parents gave me when I was - I think - about 8: What Katy Did, What Katy Did At School, What Katy Did Next, plus Little Women and Good Wives. Thereafter, I went to Elder Park library in Govan every week with my father and just read and read and read. I was never big on Enid Blyton, but I read all the books I could find by Agatha Christie, John Creasey and Georges Simenon. Then came Daphne du Maurier, Graham Greene, Evelyn Waugh, Arnold Bennett, Mrs Gaskell...There was no censorship that I can remember. And no advice on what was good or bad. I was left to develop my own critical sense.

Friends tell me of being chased out of the house by parents who didn't like to see them with their nose 'stuck in a book.' I never had that problem. My father was doing a diploma in engineering at what is now Strathclyde University and read all the time. My mother's idea of heaven was to curl up with a copy of the Weekly News. There were always newspapers and books around. I'm delighted that my sister and brother and I have continued that trend. I love working as a volunteer with Glasgow libraries, especially since Karyl (librarian) and Alex (fellow volunteer) are so knowledgeable about books.

All this helps to explain why I find it hard to get rid of books but doesn't help me to actually do it. And I'll have to get it sorted, because the family are coming on Saturday night for drinks and pizza (our version of a Burns Supper) and at the moment they won't be able to get in the livingroom door.