Time for a new book.

Neil Gaiman's book moved up from the desk top to the "book i am reading", though to be completely accurate it is the "book i have just finished" due largely to an attack of gastro that laid me low in my bedand all i could do was read.

It has to be the only time that i have really enjoyed a collection of short stories, usually i never finish them.

It was like looking through someone's scrapbook; snapshots and keepsakes from different times, moods and inspirations.

The writing throughout was excellent and one small sentence stays in my mind, not because of its beauty but because of its perfect description of one unpleasant aspect of London Town where i used to live.

But because of roots and defining moments i will always consider home.

"The building smelled like a damp spice rack......The stair-carpet was frayed and the soles of my shoes made sticking noises as they pulled up from it; the plaster hung in crumbling chunks from the walls."