My instant fix

My most trying obsession

Is a tie between books and travel.

I try in earnest to walk past Waterstones or Dillon’s to no avail.

I’m like a vampire stalking its prey in order to feed.

Ever thirsting never replete.

As if by magic it is now dark and I’m being politely ushered to the door away from my bevy of beauties galore.

The travel section.

My resting place.

My soul cries in MacEnroe fashions you can’t be serious.

I’ve only just started!

Like a petulant child who’s been chided wrongly I say ok.

And drag my feet towards the exit.

It is patently clear this should be a twenty four hour business but they never got the memo.

Maybe I’ll start a churlish petition.

Do not they know how terribly inconvenient it is to leave my comfort zone.

How selfish of them to want to go home