The Antiques Roadshow generally makes me think of that sad, Sunday feeling, but it does sometimes uncover a lovely story or two. The current favourite has to be that of Mr James, who was given some books by his schoolmaster back when he was 11 and, rather than giving them a read, he shoved them away unopened.
Skip forward a couple of decades, and his wife discovered that the inside of the books had been hollowed out and a variety of chocolate bars had been secreted inside.
Now, I disapprove of cutting up books in general (how can you deface those poor defenceless words, you monsters!) but this story did make me giggle. Just imagine the disappointment of that 11 year old, when he realised he’d passed up on the goods.
That said, I’d like to think that what you find in a decent book is even better than chocolate. It’s tends to last better, at least, but really, the ideal situation is a combination of both. Maybe with a bath and a glass of wine thrown in for good measure, mmm.
I did always want one of those fake books though, although I think the only thing I really wanted to hide at that age would be my diary, which would kind of defeat the purpose. Although I suppose it would be a grand way to hide my chocolate stash from Ink…