Books

What better way to start my new blog than to talk about my first love: Books!

My earliest memories of books surround the old National Library at Stamford Road (Singapore). The red brick building is one so familiar that even when I close my eyes now I can picture the stair landing where I used to wait at for my mother to pick me and my sister up after the library was closed for the day. You see, my mother was a librarian. On weekends and school holidays, she used to bring us along to work and we would have a gala time trying to cram in as much reading as we much books as we could.

My mother's office was located in a separate building beside the library. To get to the library from the office building, one would have to weave their way through underground passages, take a ride on a rickety old lift and walk through a few other offices. For two (my sister and I are twins) 5 year old children, this adventure was made even more exciting because we made this journey by ourselves. Along the way, some of my mother's colleagues will recognise us and guide us along, sometimes giving us little chocolates or trinkets.

At the library, I'd trawl the shelves for books and then settle myself down in a cosy corner to read. This will occasionally be interspersed with trips to the toilet, playing hide-n-seek amongst the bookshelves, making friends with other children and also by my mothers' colleagues constantly checking on us.

This is how my love for books was cultivated. My mother used to bring books home for me to read without fail since i was very small. I started reading the newspapers everyday since I was 6.

With the advent of Kindles and iPhones, you no longer have to visit a bookstore or a library to get your hands on reading material, a whole world of books now magically appear at your fingertips. I have also switched to buying e-books; e-books are much easier to read when you are jostling with the crowds while on the trains and buses.

But sometimes, when I am feeling whimsical, I go down to a bookstore and buy an actual book. When I hold the book in my hands and begin flipping the pages, I am instantly transported to a time lost in memories. A time where I am 6 years old once again, sitting in a corner of the old musty smelling library and reading while I wait for my mother to pick me and my sister up after she knocks off work.