'She was happiest sitting on top of the Aga, her small nose buried firmly in a book'
On Tuesday I went to the library, and immediately resumed my childhood love affair with reading. I actually had the best time dashing about, picking out anything I wanted to read for free. Goodbye uni reading list. As soon as I got home I set about devouring the stack, book by book.
The first was Sophie Dahl's The Man with the Dancing Eyes. Offbeat, fanciful, and full of bizarre exquisite drawings by Anne Morris, it reads like a Breakfast at Tiffany's fairytale in the shortest form ever. This book is just lovely. And whimsical. Life should contain more whimsy; it should be more Amelie-esque and filled with confetti.
I was curious to see if the supermodel/celeb chef/jazz musician's wife had inherited her grandfather's fantastic storytelling (I loved Matilda!). Louboutins, painters and Lapsang Souchong? I say well done Miss Dahl.
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