When I went to bed on Friday night, I had all kinds of plans for Saturday. I’d heard it was going to be warm, almost 60 degrees warm. It’s been a long time since we had temperatures so balmy here, in Toronto. So I had every intention of spending as much of the day as possible, outdoors.
I stayed up too late, though. It was well after 1:00 a.m. when I finally got into bed. So I was a bit wrecked when I got up. I blogged, fed the cats and found myself back in bed, where I promptly fell back asleep. I’m embarrassed to tell you what time I woke up.
Let’s just say I must have been really tired.
Not quite ready to venture out of bed, I started reading blogs. One or two in, I found myself at Word by Word, one of my favourites. I loved the day Claire was writing about. Although it was raining in Provence, where she lives, she was going to an English book sale.
She talked about how, even though she doesn’t need any more books, it wasn’t stopping her. I can relate. I don’t need any more books, either. I have stacks of them I haven’t gotten around to reading yet. But I keep buying them. I just can’t help myself. If I read an interesting review, or I wander by a book store, I can’t resist.
Back to Claire. So she went to the book sale and walked out with seven books. And then she went home to lose herself in her new purchases. A perfect way to spend a rainy day.
The more of her blog I read, the more I wished it was raining here. I had rainy-day-in-Provence envy. Well, not really, but you know what I mean. If your weekend has to be soggy, it would somehow be nicer if you were in France, don’t you think? Curled up with a book or two. And maybe a nice bowl of cafe au lait. Or a glass of wine. Claire didn’t mention wine. But she did talk about roasting chickens, baguettes and chocolate eclairs. Mmmmm …
Well, I couldn’t do anything about that. Blinking and finding myself in France, that is. But I could stay home and read, if I felt like it. No law about not being able to read if it’s not wet outside. So that’s what I did. Didn’t miss much weather wise, because it never got warm. It was sunny, all right. But very cold. Perfect day for staying indoors with a book.
There’s one I started a while ago, but never got past the first chapter. Nothing wrong with it. I quite liked it. I just got distracted and busy, put it down and forgot about it. It’s called “The Longest Way Home”, by Andrew McCarthy. An actor in his youth, a confused and messed up McCarthy ended up walking the Camino de Santiago, in Spain.
While it came about as an accident (if you believe in accidents), it inspired him to become a travel writer. The book, which is described as a travel memoir, is about all the globe trotting he’s done, in an effort to figure himself out. And find the answers to some of the more pressing questions he has about life, and his own life, in particular.
It’s something I can relate to, as I am sure you can, as well. It’s the reason a lot of people travel. I remember my doctor telling me, when I went for all my shots for India that, after listening to me go on and on non-stop for about half an hour about my upcoming trip, she knew I was going on a life journey, not a vacation. She was right, even though I didn’t know it at the time.
Funny, yesterday seemed to be my ‘escape’ day. I read a book about traveling most of the afternoon and watched Eat, Pray, Love for what has to be the hundredth time on TV last night.
Do you think the Universe is trying to tell me something? Should I be packing?