Apologies for the lack of blog yesterday. It was a pretty horrendous day. I’m still feeling rubbish physically but after a few days looking for my beautiful embroidery scissors. Today we found them, behind a gap in the skirting board... behind my radiator. As you can imagine hilarity ensued trying to fish them out, it took hours we couldn’t see them and mum and I were hysterically trying to use a coat hanger to hook them which remarkably somehow she managed. You couldn’t make it up and I laughed so hard I honestly could not sit up. It hasn’t transformed my mood but it’s a start.

Anyway, today is World Book Day and I felt like writing about my love of reading. Now the more I thought about it the more must reads I wanted to mention and memories came up so I’m going to try and compress it down a bit. I want to talk about my love of books as a child but if you’re interested I’m happy to bore you some more with books I love as an adult. 

Reading was a huge part of my childhood. My mum used to read to me everyday, I started reading quite early and never looked back. I was always one of the first to be on the highest reading level at school. My mum used to record herself reading my books onto a cassette (yes I’m that old) and then I’d play that and listen to them over and over while I did other things. Audio books from the library were also a big favourite. Although not physically reading, I got captured by the characters, the stories and the voices of those who read. Off the top of my head, mum read a lot of Mr Men books and our special one was Mr Skinny. It was a conStant struggle to gain weight (like more than you can imagine) and I needed extra weight to fight infections. Not to ruin it for anyone but at the end of the story Mr Skinny gets a tummy (ironic as I post this currently bloated to look 8 months pregnant). I used to adore My Naughty Little Sister stories, read by Felicity Kendall whose gentle but mischievous voice I can hear now. Wind and the Willows I remember a lot too although never a favourite, my abiding memory was Toad yelling ‘Poop poooop!’ From what I’m now wandering was David Jason’s voice.... Pam Eyres frequently read me a story about a little pig called Piggo, who I think was the smallest of his brothers and sisters.

The Worst Witch books were devoured, as were most things really. I loved Enid Blyton everything, the Far Away Tree and the Wishing Chair. Secret Seven, Famous Five. 

In my day (!) we didn’t dress up for book day. But I can remember my excitement at the staff wheeling the bookcases into the hall, full of all kinds of books. We each got a voucher for money off and I was allowed to browse and pick one out. Definitely one of my favourite school memories. I remember buying a Michael Morpergo Book with 3 stories. One called The Marble Crusher, ended up reading all his others after that.

There are too many to mention but believe me I read a LOT! At school I remember reading a series called My Best Fiend, Charlie was the main character and her best friend Angela was always getting her into trouble. I don’t know why she put up with it so long if I’m honest. Jacqueline Wilson’s books were every girls dream and I ate them up in particular The Ilkustrated Mum and Lola Rose spring to mind. For some reason I think I must have got one of these for Easter as it really reminds me of that. I never had any appetite and eating was a chore so books were far more interesting to me than any sweet shop.

Roald Dahl is iconic to any childhood reader. I only have to see a Quentin Blake illustration and even now I get a happy little jump inside! His books are exciting, adventurous, dark worlds, where there are awful, disgusting, terrible people but you can’t getenough of them! My favourite book was George’s Marvellous Medicine, and the Twits. I adore the original film of Willy Wonka and Matilda. I loved the books too but those films are deeply a part of me. 

Harry Potter can probably encapsulate the feeling I get when I read maybe best. If I find a good book or even better a series of books then I have found bliss. I found this out when a few weeks ago I read the His Dark Materials trilogy and as an adult couldn’t put the books down. It reminded me vividly of Harry Potter. I was fortunate enough to have grown up in the golden age of Potter, the first 3 I think were out when I started reading them. Then every time we had to WAIT for JK to write the next one! The waiting though made it even better. I’d regularly go through and reread the previous books waiting for the next. There were countdowns for the next book, people queued at midnight and every time my dad would have the next book waiting for me when I woke the next day. No word of a lie I would often read it in one sitting. Curling up with a book, cancelling out the real  world to enter another as fast as your eyes can read it. It was like a sickness, all encompassing until it was finished when you came out of your haze and in the the words of Ron Weasley thought ‘Bloody hell!’. 

I experienced this utter joy all over again with His Dark Materials and many other books a long the way. 

It makes me sad that neither my niece or nephews have the vociferous need to read that I did at their age, purely because they are missing out on something so magical. I hope it will come to them in time, it only takes that one read to start the obsession.... 

PS All these photos are of my own well-loved, well read copies. X