After forcing myself to watch the troubling crime drama Criminal Justice, I tried to relax with Rat Run, a paperback copy of one of Gerald Seymour's superb blockbusters.

She Who It Is Best To Obey suggested that I should save the Seymour canon for when I retire, and read something more stimulating instead, but why wait - I could be knocked down by a bus tomorrow.

As I have now discovered rather belatedly that Seymour is such a good writer, I have hunted down one or two of his old novels.

I found Holding the Zero and A Line in the Sand at The Book Lover in Woodin Way off Park End Street, and if I can't beat my addiction I shall be going back for more.

Harold Evans' My Paper Chase, and Blazing Obscurity, the fifth instalment of Clive James' autobiography, are also keeping me entertained.

I read Good Times, Bad Times by Evans, the former editor of the Northern Echo, Sunday Times and The Times in preparation for his life story. I think I found the first book even more riveting than the latest one.

I picked up Almost a Gentleman by the playwright John Osborne in a furniture store in Walton Street for £1, which is pretty good value in anyone's book. Knowing Osborne it will be pretty spicey.

Ion Trewin's Alan Clark biog is also entertaining, but Clark's unpleasant behaviour becomes a tad demoralising after a while.

I want to get hold of a copy of Stieg Larsson's The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet's Nest but I'm reluctant to cough up full price for the hardback. If it's discounted, I'll offer anything up to a tenner.

Sometimes a book comes my way that looks fascinating yet daunting at the same time, and one has just landed.

It's The Defence of the Realm by Christopher Andrew, the authorised history of MI5. I'm looking forward to reading it but I'll need to strengthen my wrists first.

It's a massive tome and I reckon I'll be up all night if I'm going to make any headway with this spooky history.