I have just discovered an unexpected benefit of middle age and its attendant memory loss. I always have a stack (or two, or three) of books around the house waiting to be read. Earlier this week I picked the top book off the nearest stack and started reading. I am now halfway through this book and it has gradually dawned on me that this is not a new book and I have actually read it before. Middle age has, however, ensured that I cannot for the life of me remember how it ends. So, two books for the price of one. Effectively. At this rate, give me another 10 years and I will be satisfied with reading and re-reading the same Jeffrey Archer novel ad infinitum.*
* No, I won't and my husband knows if this ever happens, it is time to call in the men in white coats.