My earliest reading memory
Four years old, teaching myself to read with a girls’ school annual my grandad brought back from a jumble sale. One of the stories involved a lacrosse match between two girls’ boarding schools. I pestered the adults to give me words, marking my progress in thick green crayon, and by the time I got to the end of the book, I could read, more or less.
My favourite book growing up
Biggles Flies West by WE Johns. Or north, or south, or east. Biggles got around a lot and, wherever he went, I followed. I can’t remember anything about the books, but I do remember the excitement I felt when I looked along the library shelf and found one I hadn’t read.
