I hate it when you get so sick that reading is no longer a pleasure, something I've experienced over the past couple of weeks. Nothing major, just bad timing (flu caused by going to work when I should have stayed in bed, followed by food poisoning caused by... well, something I ate, probably). Anyway, life has come to a bit of a standstill: little reading, virtually no work and absolutely no studying, so I'm starting to get way behind with that.
So, naturally, my current book is 'Middlemarch'.
All being well (and by all I mean me), I'll have got through it by the end of next week and be able to give you all my thoughts on Eliot's magnus opus. Then again, I may actually have to devote some time to the other things (and people!) in my life...
Watch this space (not literally, nothing will happen if you do, it's just an expression).