I have been agitating for more activities to discuss books, as general interest and as good memory exercises. A volunteer, taken early retirement is a voracious reader, and (I hope she will not get discouraged) is starting a fortnightly book discussion. Four of us talk, two sit. One of those cannot remember if she has ever read a book, but then, poor lady, I do not think she can remember anything much. Our next meeting is on children’s books. They know Noddy (Oui Oui) and some Enid Blyton. Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass are French favourites. I do not know if bedtime reading was part of French culture, many of the houses I have been in did not show much sign of books.

So, to test my own memory, what did I read to our children, what did we read to the grandchildren, and what their children are absorbing. Currently, apparently hugely popular is the Gruffalo. One son had a favourite ‘The Saggy Baggy Elephant’. I read it nightly for weeks, got to hate it. He knew it off by heart, of course, but if I got dozy, or missed a bit, I’d be sharply reprimanded.

As a child I remember Angela Brazil girls’ school stories, Black Beauty. I do not remember being read to, but as there were few books in the war and we had no electricity it was not very practical. I kept all my children’s books and took them all to France. Thinking along the shelves: Ladybird books, did they include Janet and John? Loads of Enid Blyton. Annuals, Rupert Bear (always thought he was ‘wet’), the Dandy, the ‘Beano’. I still remember the characters, Desperate Dan and his cow pie with the horns sticking out, Lord Snooty, Denis the Menace, Beryl the Peril. We had most of the William books; they only went with the last house in 2023. 

I don’t know at what age one started to read them. I’d often dip in as an adult. Poor William, he always meant well, and things somehow went wrong. There was Violet Elizabeth Bott: ‘I’ll scream and scream until I’m Sick’. Winnie the Pooh, when they are trying to find Tigger something to eat. He tries a thistle, but spits it out. EyeOre ‘I was saving that for my birthday, but what are birthdays, here today and gone tomorrow’. That memory was because we had coloured 78 records, stories read by actors, Joyce Grenfell super on Nonsense Rhymes. Winnie the Pooh was beautifully done. The Wind in the Willows, Moley, Ratty, Mr Toad and his cars. In France, with two grandchildren, boys, we’d visited an aquarium in the morning, lunch then the impatient one ‘What are we going to do now?’ Well, a rest would be nice. The younger one wanted to read, suggested to his cousin. Scathingly ‘Books are for school’. His sister tried to choose books which she could claim gave her nightmares, so she could come downstairs. I’ve run out of room, over to you.

The Gardener

A Moodscope member