My ereader is still absent, having been sent off for a warranty repair. I fear it may have been lost by the postal service in the country it was shipped to.
On a whim I picked up a pulp horror paperback from a "borrow and return" selection at a local coffee shop. I only picked up the book to keep myself amused whilst I drank my coffee, but ended up wanting to finish it so away with me it went! The novel is surprisingly well written and is providing that wonderful lust of "just one more page".
The pages of the book are that glorious orangey-brown colour from being well seasoned by time. The pages smell divine; that heady, woody, delightfully musty perfume of adventure only old books seem to provide.
I have to admit, I've very much missed the simple joy in the experience of reading a physical book.