I covet books like some women covet diamonds. I have been this way all my life. It was not unusual for a parent to come into my room when I was, oh, around 12 or so and say, "Put down that book and do your homework!" The world can fall around me while I'm reading a good book, and I wouldn't even notice.
So, yeah, you get the point, I like to read.
I have managed to carry over around 15 books, and I've got around 50 sitting in boxes back home (they are being graciously stored at a friend's house until we can go back for them next year - for which I am eternally grateful). This is after the bags and bags of books I decided I could live without (sigh) and donated to the local library.
So imagine my horror when we went to a used book fair this morning. Piles and piles and tables and tables of books, which I cannot read because they are not in English.
I mean, don't get me wrong, I could work my way through them, with a trusty dictionary by my side, but that's hardly the point, is it? You read books to relax, not to give yourself a headache.
After digging through many, many boxes, we did manage to find a handful of books in English. I came away with Great Expectations (which I haven't read since high school so I can chalk that up in the "I really should have more classics" column), Brave New World (which I've never read; was it buried under 1984 all this time?), and Trilby (which gave us the lovely word "Svengali"). All for only 6€, and the proceeds go to Amnesty International.
Well, that'll keep me busy for the weekend, anyway...
Inquiring minds want to know...
The Pie Solution
Following Riri's (and many others, thanks y'all!) advice, we bought a glass pie dish and will buy the pre-made pastry called pate brisee for the crust. Pie is coming in T minus 6 days, so stay tuned for the results!
The Ungodly Tax
I got a few responses from mentioning we've got to pay a tax, as I said, for moving to France. What I actually received was a letter from the Office des Migrations Internationales stating that we've got to pay 220€ for my first Titre de Sejour - the piece of paper that says it's ok for me to stay here. It's not really a ton of money but we're living off one salary these days, and we weren't expecting this. Ah, newlywed poverty....... isn't it romantic?
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