I read until I've been in Badger's lovely, warm, firelit, bacon-rasher-sizzling, toast-toasting, passage-winding, lavender-bedded home. Then I stop.
If I were in this book, I'd certainly be a badger or a mole. Only in these chapters of snow and snuggling down for winter do I thoroughly enjoy myself in the book. Aren't badgers lovely?
Back to the river now. Perhaps I can tolerate Toad if I get to keep company with Ratty and Moly. But oh! how I will miss the chimney corners at Badger's snug house!