Seven decades of reading and I still have many years of books ahead

I think I might have mentioned, occasionally, my passion for books.

It’s been a passion for more than 70 years and it doesn’t matter what they are, fiction or fact, I simply don’t care.

What I do care about is holding the real deal in my hands.

Obviously as a tiny tot it would have been one or other of my parents reading me a bedtime story, quite possibly a tale of little Noddy, and his friend Big Ears.

Once I was old enough to read “real books” I was voracious. If it was within reach then I would take it and read it.

I remember books about a young boy called Just William and another called Jennings (he went to a private school) which may have belonged to my brother. I also remember raiding my sister’s little library and reading books about Cherry Ames (nurse – probationer, sister, army nurse and any nursing role you can think of) or the Little Women series about the March family.

By now I was equipped with the key to the guarded safety deposit of books – the local library, which was at the top of our road.

One thing I did realise was that there were boys’ books and girl’s books.

Somehow I did not care. To me a book is a book.

It’s been the same ever since and I don’t care if it’s written by a man or a woman, all I want is a good read.

I’ll introduce you to some of my favourite books here and hope you will enjoy them as much as I have.