Literally, I read everywhere. I have no such thing as a favourite place where I read, except maybe a bank on the River Thames’ northbank, Victoria Embankment Gardens or right east of Tower Bridge, facing Butler’s Warf.


Oh, and the terrace of Hamburg Airport where I sit every now and then, watching planes taking off, reading and daydreaming.

Apart from that, I read everywhere: on the sofa, at the desk, at the dining table, in bed, on the tube, when waiting for an appointment. I take books along with me wherever I go in case I have some spare time. I even read books and magazines on the loo. I sewed a bag fitting exactly for the bathroom shelf so I could store books right where I need them.

Of course I dream of the perfect seat, a huge armchair with ears in my old looking library, a lamp beneath and a coffee table, the cats and the dog happily snorring in the corner of the room…

Great! Now I’m homesick.



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