Many moons ago, when LMTS (Lagos Municipal Transport Service) used to rule Lagos roads, a senior in my secondary school entered a crowded bus. He had to stand up because all the seats were taken. It was not unusual and it was not uncomfortable. As he familiarized himself with the other occupants, he saw a younger student – wearing the same khaki uniform – seating comfortably in the front rows. That aroused his curiousity. He tried to peer through the standing – and sitting- bodies for a closer look. The younger student appeared to be engrossed in a book. ‘That has to be Adetiba’ he thought to himself. Who else would read in a crowded, noisy bus? As he neared his destination and the bus thinned out, he was able to confirm the identity of the younger student. It was indeed Adetiba. That indeed, was me in those days, reading novels wherever and whenever I could – in the toilet, dining room, chapel, and in that case, a crowded bus. And with whatever light was available – candle, torch, or even firewood. That I was sometimes caught and the novels confiscated never deterred me. I was simply naked without a novel. The more I read, the more I wanted to consume, and consequently, the faster my reading time. I learnt to read with my eyes and not my lips. I progressed to reading a paragraph or two in seconds (like modern day scanning) without missing the essence of the narrative and the average time for a 200 paged novel was four hours or less. Unfortunately, journalism, editing in particular, where you have to look out for errors in punctuation and otherwise, took it all away from me, making me to become a slow, ponderous reader. But that, including how journalism affected my development as a creative writer, are stories for another day.

I discovered the joy of reading very early in life – from Mills and Boons, and ‘they lived forever together’ romance books, to more detailed, more nuanced novels. In this, I was encouraged by a father who was an educationist and loved people who could express themselves well in the English language. He often used me as an example to others, calling me out in front of other young people to ask how many books I had read during the holidays. Don’t get me wrong; I was not studious. Far from it. I didn’t find the same attraction for chemistry, physics or history books – I read those to pass exams. I was just a quiet individual who considered reading as entertainment and also found a sort of refuge in it. Reading was my happy place, helped hugely by the fact that I love my own company and would prefer a good book to an outing any day. For some strange reason, I also love a body of water probably because of the serenity which accompanies it. As a young adult, in the days when the Lagos Bar Beach was still eco-friendly and people friendly, I often went there to spend the day – with a good novel of course. It was an opportunity to combine two indulgencies, two mentally happy places, and I often came back refreshed and inspired. These days, it is no accident that my favourite place in a cruise ship is where I can observe nature through the majestic waters – sadly this time without a book.

Gone seems to be time when I was always seen with a book. Gone are the days when my duty free shopping consisted of books and more books. I had over the years moved from novels to memoirs and biographies. I also had people who ordered for the latest memoirs on my behalf. It was a sad day that I had to tell one of them not to be too hasty since I had not touched his last order. I have looked for reasons for this gradual loss of this happy place. The obvious scapegoat being my deteriorating eyesight. It is true that I have found it difficult reading in the night for a while. It is true that I can no longer lie in bed and read from any position as I used to do. But the real truth, the ugly truth, is that digital has taken over analogue and soft copy has taken over hard copy. My source of entertainment has moved to DSTV, where there are more sources than before and to smart phones which offers variety in short versions. Besides, they are easier on my eyes and I can read articles on my phone until the small hours of the night with little or no strain. But I still look at my growing collection of books wistfully, wishing I had more time with them. I still long for those days when my happy place was with a book.

Then it happened. I was with my daughter in the US recently. She offered me a book, an archival material she didn’t want to part with. Titled ‘The Alchemist’ it is one of those timeless books you want to read from time to time and I can understand why she didn’t want to part with it. Besides, it is a small book that would have taken me just a couple of hours in my hey days. The wonder of it is that I was able to shut out everything, including the allure of TV and my phone with its ever dropping messages, to finish it in a day. It was a ‘eureka’ moment! I eagerly picked up another book and on my way back home, I ignored all in-flight attractions to concentrate on the book – the way I used to in the past. I also used my connecting flight time to consume a few chapters – I confess though, to stealing a few glances at the TV to watch the French Open. I have rediscovered my happy place again and it feels good; very good. I only hope I can read as fast as I used to before. But I suppose that would take time, especially now that I no longer have to edit people’s scripts.

The main purpose of this article is to urge those who have lost their early love – from the artist who loves to draw or paint, the sculptor who sees life in every piece of wood, the poet who loves to muse, the person with the golden voice who has not sang in years, the amateur designer who loves to dress up models, the chef who loves to experiment with food, the nature lover who loves the serenity of the woods - to modern distractions to try and rediscover their happy place. The digital world has given us so much. But it has also taken away so much. Finding your happy place is critical to work/life balance. Besides, it is where you can truly be yourself.

• Muyiwa Adetiba is a veteran journalist and publisher. He can be reached via titbits2012@yahoo.com