"The reason I have to wear glasses is from all the hours spent reading books with a flashlight."
When I was a tweenager, I'd hide in the linen closet with my two little sisters (who made beds in the blankets on the high shelves) and read aloud to them by the light of a flashlight (torch for all of you UKers). The books we read were Phyllis Reynolds Naylor's witch books--forbidden reading for my younger sisters.
Then came the year that I lived with my Aunt. Ten o'clock sharp was lights out or die! At least, I thought she'd kill me if I didn't turn the light out. When she pounded the ten o'clock warning on my closed bedroom door, I'd turn off the bedside lamp and flip on the electric blanket no matter that it was the middle of summer. Why the electric blanket? It had a microscopic orange light on it, just bright enough that if I moved it along each individual line of the book, I could read! I hunkered down into the wee hours of the morning with the likes of "Clan of the Cave Bear," "The Hobbit," and "The Hero and the Crown."
And yes. I, too, wear glasses.
Anyhow, the point I am trying to make is:
What lengths have you gone to to read?
What rules have you broken?
Where did you have to hide to delve into the forbidden?