Life is really just one big book; you can choose to read it and learn from it, or you can ignore your experience of it. I choose to read life as I live, and find I get so much joy from it, as well as learning so much more than simply being in attendance. I have always loved to read, books, newspapers, fiction, nonfiction, autobiographies, biographies, poetry, encyclopaedias, cooking books, art books, children’s books, blogs… you name it, pretty much anything, anytime, anywhere. Holidays with the boys’ often included daily chants, mum, are you ever going to stop reading! Riding on the bus to school each day usually included the crossword in the paper on the way home, plus reading and homework both ways for the rest of the time. Nerdy I know, but it worked for me. The pleasure I have always gained from reading has been immense, and has never waned. Reading has been not just a hobby of mine, but I have seen it as food for my soul and mind (yes, it does always get back to food!!). Since blogging, and publishing a poetry book, I now feel like I am a writer, with readers. What a privilege to have people who enjoy my words and stories. The notion that I might give just one other person the simple pleasure I have always felt as a reader is awesome, a thrill so totally unexpected, mostly because I had never thought about it from the writer’s perspective. To offer something up for another person to read, something I have not forced them to read is very fulfilling, even though it is as scary as hell. To think I occasionally inspire someone to think beyond their own world, that I write something that someone else reads, that makes someone laugh (or a cry), is exquisitely inspiring to me as a writer, and a great honour .