Sometimes There Is No Next Time, No

So Boring You Fall Asleep Halfway Through Her Name.

...she Felt About Reading What Some Writers Felt About Writing: That It Was Impossible Not To Do It And That At This Late Stage Of Her Life She Had Been Chosen To Read As Others Were Chosen To Write.

Life Is Rather Like A Tin Of Sardines - We're All Of Us Looking For The Key.

The Days Weren't Long Enough For The Reading She Wanted To Do.

That's A Bit Like Asking A Man Crawling Across The Sahara Whether He Would Prefer Perrier Or Malvern Water.