I’m never without at least one book on the go. Currently one “proper" book (a Val McDermid), one e-book download from the library in case I wake up in the night (Olive, Again), one audio-book, also from the library to keep me company when I’m doing jobs around the house (Conversations with Friends). I don’t read magazines and just skim the newspapers, which we buy for DH. He devours them from cover to cover, but only reads books on holiday (Howard Hughes’ autobiography just lived in the case for a couple of years, ready to go).
I don’t feel he’s missing out, any more than he thinks I’m missing out by hating gardening, which takes up so many of his hours. We’re all different, thank goodness. 