User talk:Juliette the Irish
This is all my father's fault. Well, it could actually be my own fault for complaining one day when we were setting out to go to Wexford that I had "nothing for the journey". Sighing, he went into his study and emerged with a Terry Pratchett book, whereupon I entered a magical and wonderful place, that beacon of irrationality and hilariality-the Discworld.
I also got carsick from reading while in motion, but that isn't the point I'm making.
The point I'm making is that if I hadn't opened my mouth to complain I would never have found out about Terry Pratchett or how good reading can actually be. That, to me, is a terrifying thought.