More than just a novel idea.

I’ve never been into collecting things. I was given a stamp album as a child and managed to stick in a few hinges and a couple of Penny Reds before throwing it into the back of a drawer. When I was a teenager my friend Dave tried to get me into Warhammer and I helped him to paint a lead Orc or two from his assembled ranks of over three thousand figures. But, after a few hours I thought, stuff this for a game of soldiers, and went out, blinking into the light. I’ve never quite understood the thrill of accumulation.

However, I’ve recently realised that, perhaps I am a hoarder after all, and a fanatical one at that. This is because our house is gradually filling up with books. They’re spreading from the shelves and now clog up cupboards, windowsills and tables. They’re even acting as extra insulation in our loft. On my desk at the moment are a copy of Peter Carey’s True History of the Kelly Gang, a pocket guide to Normandy and two Beano annuals.