Choosing books from the bookshop is a bit of a dilemma for me. On the one hand, I revel in the knowledge that I'm getting to take a new one home with me but on the other, I know that of the thousands of books around me, I have to leave 99.9% of them in the shop.
Sometimes I go in and don't know where to look - every book I see I want to pick up, fondle, and take home. I spend LOOOOONG minutes narrowing the field down to 3 or 4, and then EVEN LONGER agonising about the final choice, weighing up the reasons why I should buy this one, or that one, and working out when I might next have a chance to buy the one that I'm going to have to leave behind. It's at this point that I normally see yet another book that throws a spanner in the works, and my fiance leaves my side to go take a seat (or more recently, hands me £20 to just buy both AND HURRY THE F*** UP! Hence the reason I'm marrying him).....
Other times when I go into the bookshop, books seems to just jump into my hands and say BUY ME BITCH. When this happens, I can't refuse. It happened today (World Book Day, appropriately enough), Margaret Atwood's latest offering, 'The Tent', had a very determined little voice with a dry Canadian accent. It also advised me on the state of my investments and gave me a great recipe for clam chowder.