Books, Tea and Dancing: The perfect day?

There is something so good about buying a second hand book; Is it the worn pages and the fact that you look a lot more accomplished reading it than a perfectly pressed novel? Is it that feeling of sharing a magical story and the emotions that accompany it, with another person, however anonymous that person or people may be? Is it the mystery of not knowing who's home the book previously lived in? Or how far the book has travelled to get to you and share its secrets? Or the feeling you get from giving your money to charity combined with the joy of what you might discover on the pages of this newly acquired paperback?  Or is it the combination of all of these factor?

On the other hand, it could just me my brain romanticising, it does tend to do that. I probably should read less Austen.

I have become slightly addicted to Oxfam books; there has always been the potential, but the shop in Aberystwyth has a literature section. Big mistake. Well, not for Oxfam, they're probably loving my donation to their cause, using it to dig wells and send children to school etc. The mistake was mine in finding the literature shelves. Loaded with Austen (which thankfully I already own), Margaret Atwood, The Brontë sisters and Mark Twain, I can no longer go into town and not pay a visit. This could be potentially dangerous for my student loan and my workload, not to mention a lack of space on my bookshelves...

I spent today (after a quick trip around the shops and another visit to Oxfam books- I bought The 39 Steps by John Buchan) in a lovely little tea shop reading Emma and listening to old couples chatting in Welsh. I did originally intend to sit on the beach with tea in a take-away cup, but then I remember Wales is actually quite cold and the beach is stony, so therefore not comfortable to sit on for any extended period of time, however engaging a book may be; 5 cups of tea and a biscuit later, I was kicked out of the café. This may sound impressive and bad-ass but it was actually because the café was closing, I was the only customer left and the staff wanted to go home. 

I shall leave you with my favourite scene from the 2009 BBC adaptation of Emma. Why don't we dance like this now? All chivalry and flirtation, with pretty dresses, amazing hair and correct grammar??