Love of books

I love books, and I love to buy books, if only to enjoy in the fraction of a second the pleasure of owning one.

I must thank my parents for this healthy indulgent of mine, of which my wife is equally indulgent of me nowadays, by bringing me regularly to bookshops when I was in primary school. I recall with some vividness our journeys to Bras Basah Complex where my brothers and I will spend a happy weekend-day visiting Popular and a small Chinese bookshop on the 1st floor (which is still operating today). I also recall my father driving us to a 2nd-hand book shop at Yishun New Town to indulge us in reading and buying the entire series of The Famous Five and many other Enid Blyton creations. For our generation then without internet and two TV channels, printed words were our only door to limitless imagination, which a young boy craves.

I must also thank my friends in primary school for nurturing my love of books by freely lending me books from their collection, a favour which I gladly returned.

In primary school, we had a small and not very well stocked library and visiting times to it and number of books that can be borrowed were controlled. I remember visiting the library in the mornings when I was in the afternoon session, hiding some of the better books so that I could borrow it the next time my allocated quota allowed me (this is wrong I know btw).

I also recall with much fondness book fairs in school. That was when I would spend some of my savings on interesting reads especially for offerings from the now defunct Bookworm Club. I would hang around the book fair for the entire morning or afternoon devouring the books I could not own but was determined to make an acquaintance with.