Before I get too into this post, I first want to apologise profusely for my posting habits, or lack thereof. Since I started secondary school, tons upon tons of homework have been thrown on top of me, and as I only get back home at about 6, followed by dinner, homework then bed, there is not a lot of time left to myself for writing my blog. I’m going to begin challenging myself, starting with a post a month, then slowly starting to increase the frequency of my posts.


Anyway, moving on, let’s talk about bookshops. I forgot how much I love, love, love bookshops until I went into our closest Waterstones in Windsor, so I could use my gift card.


First off, that initial feeling of excitement, thousands of books piled up on shelves, asking, craning to be opened and read. The feeling of wanting to grab every book you see and take it home, enough to last a lifetime.


Scouring the first floor, making your way through historical fiction, adult fiction: tragedy, comedy, romance and much more. Quickly brushing over the children’s section to be reminded of books that you read when you were the same age of the small people running around your legs. Wanting to bring home every book in the young adults section.


Then you realise that there is a whole other floor waiting upstairs, crammed with sci-fi, arts, non-fiction, travel and those funny books you buy for friends and family at Christmas.


Me, I dote over the Doctor Who books, before cringing at the price on the back and reluctantly placing the book back on the shelf.


Watching the hours tick by as you try and decide exactly which book to buy. The feeling of holding a new book in your hands, like cradling a new born baby. The satisfaction of buying your new books and, as you leave, the thoughts of, “I could live in a bookshop.”


What are your thoughts on bookshops?

Let me know in the comments below!


Have a great day,


Grace xx


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