There is one place, loaded with potential tragedy and risk, that it is really, very perilous to read.
I have had so many accidents, so many novels left drying out on radiators, after which they swell to double their size, with bloated, wrinkly, fanned-out pages, with a light whiff of vanilla bubble bath rising from them. That’s not easy to explain to a librarian. So, I banned myself from library books in the bath. And also any books of my own that are nice or treasured in any way. It would be sensible to stick to just newspapers and magazines, but you only get one life, and I have to live it my way (man). I cannot wrap myself in cotton wool, eschewing all potential danger.
To take this picture, I had to have my phone as well as a book in the bath, which given my history, and the fact my phone cost more than any of my books, was a hairy few minutes, I can tell ya.