The great escape

Reading a great book transports us to other times, places and adventures. But how on earth do you make time to get around to all of them?

- WORDS by AMANDA BLAIR

Books formed a major part of my childhood, adolescence and years before children. My fondest memories are lying in bed, on beaches and benches reading. Books took me away from reality, warring parents and suburban life to magical places and faraway trees. I learned about people, relationships, travel, romance, fantasy and that according to Judy Blume, God is the person to ask about your first bra. Apparently he's a fitting specialist.

When I became a mother, available time for reading severely diminished, but not my desire. So, like a bear hoarding food for the winter, I've been hoarding books for that elusive “one day” when my time is less demanded upon.

I fantasise about this regularly – it’s what gets me through those horrible days when everybody is screaming, the washing basket’s overflowing, one of the children declares they're vegan just as I’m serving dinner and my husband announces he’s away next week on a conference. Ugh. My escape hatch is the thought of me, snuggled up in front of a fire in the Shetland Islands, reading the latest Geraldine Brooks.