The Guardian’s National Book Swap seemed like a lovely idea. The wet-lib rag urged its readers to leave much used and much loved books in random public places with a note urging a stranger to pick them up so that they might find the same inspiration enjoyment . They in turn could leave their own favoured tome in place, and so on. As I say, a lovely idea, and I was all set to join in.
The only trouble was, in any of the myriad areas of Greater Manchester which I frequent, I never saw one. I even deliberately went on public transport slightly more often in the hope. Not one, not once. And I wasn’t going to be the one to start – my book would only drop when I saw another, and so in my arms it stayed.
There’s a dreary and misleading moral there if you care to look.