How is this Sunday going for you? I have been smelling the pages of old books that I laid my hands on for the smashing overall amount of 2 quid yesterday at a second-hand bookshop in Ludlow, and, inhaling a box of cookies I had stashed away and suddenly found on Friday evening in a dark corner of the pantry. Hidden treasures are not to be scorned, especially the buttery kinds, no?
Below is a shot of two pages from an autobiography by Nicolas Bentley, a 20th century British author and illustrator. It is an unusual autobiography. You do not come across those very often. Bentley said with a self-deprecating tinge: “..as I have very little imagination, not being a fisherman, and practically no memory, I realised that my autobiography, if it was to be written at all, must be written while my eyes though no longer innocent saucers were yet undimmed by the rheum of antiquity”. I was even more kicked to realised that he was the illustrator for a book – How to be an Alien (1946) by George Mikes – I have stacked into the library room of my childhood home in Calcutta. Travel – it makes you meet your childhood at unexpected places, or maybe I should have expected it because Mikes was writing a book on classic British humour (an instance of which is a chapter on sex that goes thus: ‘Continental people have sex lives: the English have hot water bottles’).
Lastly, because I have been routing through my box of postcards every weekend, here are some tidbits for you.
ARUNDHATI BASU 
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