One of those books that we've owned for ages, and I never read it, thinking that ah sure, it won't run away. Plus I thought it was a depressing book. For some reason. About misery and stuff.
But I was wrong. It's an adorable little story about a lonely weaver who lives for his money, and is devastated when it is stolen. Then chance sends him a little orphan to care for, instead of his gold. It's moral, and suffused with good. I loved it. We have a Wordsworth edition, and as you may know they come with very good introductions written by Clever People, and I even enjoyed that - it truly enhanced my reading experience. So now, on a classics kick, I'm reading The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne, another book I've always assumed was on some dull subject, but it isn't. I haven't gotten that far yet, but I already stand corrected.
Right, that's all I'm able for today.