Recently, Mother brought me from home the few books that were mine from my childhood.
They're mostly a bit worse for wear, and as a childless 40yo I don't have much future-use for them (though a nephew may get the better ones). In a move that might be considered horrendous by some, I intend to find in a few of the books some interesting pictures, cut the pages out, and nicely and individually frame them. I've been given the option to turn the downstairs room into a study/library/tiny photo studio/etc. and looking for pictures to help decorate, and childhood reading images in a library seem right to me.
(Note, none of the books are special, first edition classics or anything - they're books that were sold in bulk at Big W)
Oddly, my Rusty, the Nimble Numbat wasn't with them. I wonder if Mother has accidentally given it to one of my other siblings...?
Cheers,
Marc
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