That Book That Lives on in Our Minds

Well, today's post comes to you because:

1. I wanted to post
2. Yet i didn't want to continue my story
3. I wanted a quick post
4. I should have gone straight to my room but instead i came to the computer

So now that you know my status of once again avoiding homework by writing to you lovely people, I'd like to just quickly relate an amusing situation i found myself in the other day.

As a rule, whenever we visit my grandparents, my grandmother invariably thinks of a book to lend me and proceeds to do so. So, on the day in questions (mothers' day in fact) my mother says "See if there's any books on the shelf you'd like to borrow" - not really in reference to my grandmother's custom just because I like books and they have books. Anyway, my grandmother follows me in, randomly recommending books but all the while saying she doesn't know what I'd Like anyway, whilst still managing to put two books in my arms to my wordless consent. The amusing part is that she was looking at the shelf thinking of any good books and says "this is supposed to be good," while sliding out a book with a nice, smooth, pure white cover, two words printed at the top and two at the bottom, a picture right in between. Ah yes fellow English students, any clue as to which book this is? None other than Sally Morgan's "My Place". I just stand there and muter, "oh well, i just read that for English" smiling slightly at her as she puts it back, whilst inside i am laughing rather more loudly and thinking of the time when someone else i know had said that it was "supposed to be good. Did you enjoy it?"

So, that's what i found a very slightly amusing story. Sorry to bother you!