Last Saturday after visiting Chester, I came home with a headache, exhaustion and a very happy mien. After half an hour home the headache, which had developed during the afternoon, was gone again (killed by a naughty excess of tablets) and we examined the goodies the day had yielded. As well as three items of clothing for Partner there were some books (surprise, surprise). In fairness, one book was very slim and one was a mere pamphlet and there were only two others.
But by weight those two others equalled our last five trips to charity shops. They were the two volumes of the Illustrated Oxford English Dictionary. Published in 1978 they are more like the encyclopaedias we had as children. They should provide hours of fun and education. While were buying them I argued (weakly and knowing my guilt feelings would be assuaged by P-w-l-t) that we hadn’t really got room for them. She laughed and picked up the pamphlet. “We haven’t really got space this, let alone those! But when has that ever stopped us?” she said.
lexicomane (noun) a lover of dictionaries