On my current austerity plan, purchasing books has become a fond memory. Other than the occasional free ebook and revisiting whatever's on my shelves, the library is my preferred source for reading material. I have been going every 4th Saturday, usually borrowing 3 volumes -- two mysteries and one biography. Or the other way around. Having finished Ruth Rendell's The Monster in the Box, I've now turned to Brian Wilson's memoir Wouldn't It Be Nice.
Wouldn't it be nice if prudes were as illiterate in the practical sense as they are in the philosophical? I'm on page 10 or so of the Wilson book and am forced to wade through numerous annoying little blots of blue ink that have been used by someone to scribble over various expletives.