My earliest reading memory
I was in my childhood bedroom in Nottinghamshire. I was three or four. I was reading a free catalogue: Massey Ferguson agricultural equipment. Tractors and combine harvesters. Not much in the way of narrative, but I loved it, especially the combine harvesters. I remember a big red one in particular mesmerising me. This was the first time I had felt the joy of turning the pages to discover what was next. And what was next was very often another combine harvester.
My favourite book growing up
The Witches by Roald Dahl. I enjoyed its demented sense of adventure and mischief and transformation. I felt as if I wasn’t being educated or made a better person, but that the author was trying to terrify me and every other nine-year-old out there. I liked how sociopathic it was, even though I didn’t know the word sociopathic. It is a horror novel for kids.
