Reading droughts ... do they matter?

The unthinkable has happened in the last six weeks.

I haven't read a a book.

Yep, I haven't read a book; since the start of June. I've been experiencing a reading drought. 

Holy shit.  I think the last time this happened was in my twenties when I was overwhelmed as a new English teacher and my mental health suffered. 

That's what I do.  I read. Read in the bath, read in bed, read in the kitchen, read whilst cooking, read as a passenger in the car, read whilst waiting for appointments, read when there is cleaning to do, read when I should be marking essays. 

And now ... I'm not reading.

A level English Language exam marking has taken over my life, as well a whole load of busy life stuff has been happening in the last six weeks.  

I mean, I know I've read at work.  I've read A Midsummer Night's Dream, and Macbeth.  I've read Lord of the Flies, and An Inspector Calls.  I've read poetry, and non fiction, and linguistics research.  I've modelled my passion for reading with my students every teaching day, just like usual. I've read The Guardian online, and articles from social media.

And I've read a whole load of student exams, and classwork, of course. 

Just I haven't read for myself.  Not a single novel. Not a poem. Nothing. 

So I need to fix it. I need to start reading again.

Today I'm going to read, tentatively. I'm going to pick up a book and start, even if it is only a few pages. And hopefully, the reading, like the summer rain that we so desperately need here in the UK, will mean that the drought will be over. 

I'll let you know!