On the 29th of February this year, at around ten past 8 in the evening on the train to Edinburgh from Oxford, I just managed to finish reading The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, or These Foolish Things to give it its proper name before it was re-jacketed for the film release. A man in a suit who had been sat across from me on my right approached me as the train started slowing down toward the station, and asked if I’d finished my book. I told him I had and he was really excited. “I’ve never seen anyone finish a book before! I was rooting for you!” Nice that reading can sometimes be a spectator sport. And now I can’t remember whether I’ve ever seen anyone finish a book before.