There used to be a time when if I needed to escape the real world I could nearly always rely on a book, I would quite often find myself lying in bed reading until the early hours. I’ve read so many books over the years that I can’t even begin to remember half of them. Books have always given me the best and most meaningful adventures. I’ve touched on hundreds of lives, visited a thousand different places, seen a million wonderful things and all through the pages of books. Books are incredible, magical things and deserve to be revered as such.

Unfortunately a few years ago that all began to change, I’m not sure what caused it, when it happened, whether it happened all at once or if it was a gradual process, but at some point I realised that I could no longer lose myself in a book. It doesn’t matter how well the book is written, how interesting the story is or even how compelling the characters might be, books simply no longer hold my attention and I find this quite upsetting.