However, I did spend many, many, probably far too many hours poring over these books and their fabulous colored plates of medical diseases, internal organs, autopsies, arterial systems, genitals, brains and what have you. Indeed I nearly did apply for medicine at university but changed my mind at the last moment and chose a rather pointless arts course-my real intention had been to go to Art College and paint… but that’s another story. Perhaps he thought these fine volumes matched our home’s interior decor? Or maybe he hoped my brother or myself would one day study these antique books and become a medical practitioner? I certainly considered it. Perhaps he liked their fine red leather covers, their marbled pages, the beautiful yet gruesome illustrations of diseases contained therein. My father once bought several volumes of medical textbooks as a job lot from a secondhand bookshop.
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