Books do furnish...

Not just a room, or three rooms, but a life really. 

The space The Old Man has occupied for the past 50 years is densely crammed with books that he has acquired over a lifetime of bibliophilia. If he wasn't out exploring London or following  country paths, the other place he loved to be was a second-hand bookshop where he could fossick among  neglected volumes and snap up a bargain. His erudition extended across a considerable range of interests: poetry, literature, music, art, philosophy, natural history,science,  archaeology, languages, Russia... so there was rarely an occasion when nothing caught his eye.

All these acquisitions, from First Editions to computer manuals, from slim pamphlets to compendious dictionaries, now have to be turfed out of their dusty shelves to face the world again. I have neither room nor time for (m)any more books so it's a question of either sale or charity donation. It's not really a cause for sorrow though because books have a life of their own. Wherever they end up it's likely they will, sooner or later, be seized upon by just such another collector and will travel in someone's pocket or bag to commence a new sojourn on different shelves.

(The process of sorting and sifting tends to be slowed by the finding of all manner of bookmarks - postcards, bus tickets, press cuttings - as well as by annotations on the end papers. However there are also surprises to be had such as the discovery of 6 bottles of Spanish brandy, only one started, squirrelled away in a chest.)

Thank you so much for all the sympathetic and  understanding comments on my blip yesterday. We can't avoid these life events but it does help to know that others have been there too and can relate so closely to the process and the emotions.
 I don't have time to comment but that doesn't mean that your words and wishes haven't been appreciated.