It’s Lara’s birthday on Thursday. Remember when she and I did that book club together, along with our friend Nora? Well, in the time since that came to an unfortunate end, we’ve continued to send each other a book now and then. She’s turned to her own bookshelf, too, and started to review them on Instagram. Her posts are concise – I’ve tried persuading her to do longer ones elsewhere, to no avail – but they’re always worth reading (you can find them here). They also show off the variety of what she reads. One minute it’ll be a Neil Gaiman fantasy, the next a biography of Queen Elizabeth II. That’s good for me, because I know that in theory she’ll give anything a go (I bought her The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy last year, although I still don’t know if she’s actually read it yet). So why can’t I do the same now – settle on something, one that I’ve enjoyed, and have faith that she might like it too?
It all comes down to the anxiety I feel around all present-buying, for every special occasion. I live with that constantly creeping fear that I don’t know anyone in my life well enough to be sure about what they’d appreciate. It’s always the same, no matter how close the person may be. I can overcome it and press ahead, but this is not one of those times. So I’m stalling – I’ll have to owe Lara, because I can’t help feeling that I can’t afford to get this one wrong. On the upside, maybe it’ll be worth the wait. At the very least, it might end up on her Instagram – even if she gives it a hammering!
Mason