On the way there I sat opposite this woman,
who was reading FIFTY SHADES OF GREY, in her sensible buttoned up winter coat and no nonsense glasses.
Was she on one of the racy passages ? I couldn't help wondering.
And then, on the train home I sat opposite this girl
Who settled down to finish off FIFTY SHADES DARKER.
Where do these books come from ? Springing up out of nowhere, in trilogy editions, exploding off the shelves of Tescos book aisles into every ruck sack, hand bag and briefcase of Britain. There seems to be no run up. They just arrive, fully formed, in unified covers, and must read credentials. And we gulp them down.
I am afraid I might have to read them now.