I really do love to read. Escaping into another world in a work of fiction, or burying myself in news and 'general interest' articles has helped me to learn so much, and to enjoy myself greatly. Why, then, can I never find the time to read?

I think I read more than I realise. At work I am constantly reading: I read and write many emails; I research information to create activities and to look for inspiration for classes; and, as with many jobs, I often have to read reports.

I really cannot deny, then, that I read a lot at work, but this does not excite me at all. At school, along with all my classmates, I had to read plenty but I must admit that I did not particularly enjoy it. Being forced to analyse texts so much was never my cup of tea. I found it difficult, stressful and boring. Now, reading at work, I feel the same. I do not read for pleasure there, I just have to do it.

I do love reading but after spending a day at work reading, the motivation to pick up another pile of papers filled with words fills me with dread.

When I do sit down to read, most often I head to the web to look at news articles and, particularly, the blogs posted on newspaper websites. The New Yorker (an American magazine) also publishes some fantastic articles on all sorts of subjects, and I try to follow a couple of authors’ blogs (mainly Andrew Solomon and David Sedaris). And, of course, I usually have a book that I can say I’m reading, even if it does take me a (very) long time to do so. I'm currently reading Gabriel García Márquez’s 'Chronicles of a Death Foretold'.

Once I sit down to read these things, I really like it, especially long articles or books, which, no matter where I am – at home, on the bus, or in a coffee shop – I am enthralled and entrapped by the stories.

Sitting down to do this is difficult. Before starting to read I feel tired and a bit too crabby to be picking up a book. As soon as I do, though, I become mesmerise by the story, and can read for hours on end.