I was sorting through some old books of mine found in a few boxes in the attic and came across a handful I just knew the local English Library would kill to get their hands on. ‘Fodor’s Amsterdam 1957’ for one, and a virgin copy of ‘Teach Yourself Swahili’.
At the bottom, hidden under the ‘Collected Works of Alistair Maclean’s Greatest Poems’, I found a peculiar scientific magazine about pets, or rather: ‘Anthrozoös – A Multidisciplinary Journal of the Interactions of People, Animals and Nature’.
Where on earth did that come from?
The library was closed that day, giving me a chance to dive into the mag, thirty years old this month. All a bit beyond me, although I found an article about cockfighting – a pastime apparently still legal in Jeréz de la Frontera.
Another book, and I’ll keep this one, has seventy-five front pages of Almería newspapers courtesy of the Almería Press Association.
One of the newspapers featured was mine: ‘The Entertainer’ (if you remember it). 
I found another treasure: ‘Mi Mamá me Mima’ – a book about how Spanish women were treated during the Franco years (Spoiler: not good), with useful tips about cleaning the kitchen and so on.
In reality though, once I’ve dusted off all the classics, the dictionaries and the Latin primers, and put them lovingly either in the dustbin or aside for the Chief Librarian to worry about, I turn with more interest to the large remainder.
See, I’m more of a thriller reader.
Spy stories are good, plus bug-eyed monster books and the better detective yarns. By now, I've read over seven thousand of them I reckon (apart from War and Peace, which took a month, I can usually get through two or three of them a week).
When we first moved to Spain, before the Age of the Television, my dad shipped half a ton of paperbacks to keep us (and a number of English-speaking neighbours) amused. There was one shop in Granada which had a shelf of very old paperbacks – probably printed in the fifties – and a couple of second-hand places in far off Torremolinos on one side, and Benidorm on the other. Not much to be going on with unless you brought your own with you (or fancied a merry weekend in T-Town).
I was an unwilling student in England in those tender days of the second half of the ‘sixties and was a keen reader (there wasn’t much else to do at my school). So, with a suitcase full of books, records and teabags, I would be welcomed three times a year by my parents (or one of their friends if there was a party going on) at the Almería airport.
My bookcase, or rather, my several bookcases, are full of treasures and as I get older and more forgetful, I discover, ruefully, that I can read them all over again - yea, as if t’were for the first time.
As for an electric book, a Kindle (with a thousand books stored therein), I think it would look a bit silly and self-conscious leaning against the wall all by itself on an otherwise naked bookshelf.
I still prefer books to the soulless TV, which now – for a small consideration – brings you shows in your own language (one might never know that the neighbours are Spanish).
These days, I can’t afford new books in English (where available) and don’t approve of Amazon, so the second-hand or charity shops (we have at least eight within a ten-minute drive) keep me happy enough, four for a euro.
And then, there’s the library. They say they would accept books in good condition but are probably thinking of someone bringing in just two or three. They have a fine collection it must be said, and I’m a keen member (also – it’s nice to talk with the volunteer librarians about books). I brought them four boxes-worth last week.
I was wondering though: the English Library still doesn’t have a computer, using a card-filing system; but one day, in the far future, I suppose one could just download one’s reading matter via the Internet onto one’s trusty Kindle – leaving me with no one to talk to.