For many years, my parents have been giving house-room to the books I collected as a teenager. Occasionally there have been comments, and I’ve filled a box or two either for charity or to take away with me. There still remains several book-cases full of books, though.

They brought a boxful when they visited last. A mix of Tolkein and Heyer.

And a woodworm.

It had been eating my copy of Heyer’s The Black Moth – and was still there! Fortunately, having discovered that something had been doing something, I took the book outside to finish flicking through the pages, so it didn’t fall out inside.

I can’t say woodworms had been high on my list of worries for my books.

Damp, yes, or my mother taking it into her head to do a charity-run (or, worse, a bonfire), but not woodworms. For one thing, the bookcases are wood: surely they’d be eating them, first. Or the floorboards.

Thankfully, none of the other books in this box appear to have been attacked, and I can only hope none of the ones remaining in my old bedroom have been either. But I think it will speed up the timeline for retrieving them. Perhaps it was a ploy by my parents…