Well, it finally happened: I didn't manage to finish a single book this past week! My current project had been taking up so much of my time and energy that I had very little left of either for much else... However, after consulting Virginia Woolf's A Room of One's Own and Three Guineas for work, I decided to slowly reread both essays in their entirety. (Why do I keep forgetting what a fantastic wordsmith she is? Every single perusal feels fresh and new, the ease with which she weaves sentences that soar then loop back on themselves a sheer delight. I should dig out the volumes of her diary I so enjoyed a few years ago.) Additionally, in the few minutes before going to sleep, I've been dipping into either Madame de Sévigné's abundant correspondence or the selected letters of Jane Austen, as they offer just the right degree of lightness, humour and wit.