Chicken soup

For the past few days I've been re-reading Tolkien's The Hobbit following an attack of nostalgia on Thursday. The Hobbit was the book from which I learned to read as a child - not in terms of recognising words, but in terms of sticking with a longish story till the end. I know my edition of it like the back of my hand, right down to maps, chapter headings and page numbers, so I barely needed to keep my eyes focused on this last re-read. I finished it yesterday and am now ready for greater things, but that was some tasty, tasty intellectual comfort food. Nom.