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I am an avid reader and have been as far back as I can remember. Starting with fairy tales, girl's comics (anyone remember Bunty, Judy and Mandy?) and Enid Blyton whilst at primary school. Oh, how I longed to go to boarding school and have a tight-knit group of friends, sharing 'tuck' and adventures.
My husband, David, did go to boarding school and he tells me the reality is nowhere near my romantic imaginings. However, he did make some good friends that he still sees every few months and they did go on camping trips to France during school holidays, which I count as adventures.
We visited the school a few years ago and were shown round by a charming boarder. The first thing that I noticed was the smell in the entrance hall – a mixture of stale food and old gym shoes – which my husband assures me greeted him every day from the age of eleven until he was eighteen. The odour must have been absorbed into the very fabric of the building to remain so long.
The dining hall looked the same, think long wooden refectory tables and benches, much like those depicted in Harry Potter films, but just about everything else have changed. The dormitories only slept four pupils and not the fifty that David swears were the norm when he was there and, more progressive still, girls are also allowed to attend.
I didn't get to boarding school, instead I attended the local comprehensive. This may explain my willingness to be drawn into books, which seemed far more interesting than physics or geography.
By the age of twelve I was (and remain) an avid fan of Georgette Heyer novels. I believe I learnt more about Regency England from her works than I did from history lessons, where the focus was on public health and both world wars. However, my favourite book as a pre-teen was The Witch, The Lion and The Wardrobe. My natural progression was to the Bronte sisters, Jane Austen and Thomas Hardy after Ms Heyer and Tolkien's Middle Earth after C.S. Lewis.
I lose myself in books and become witness to the action until the very end. I think it amazing that authors conjure up whole galaxies, worlds, countries, creatures, heroes, heroines and bad guys. I am awe of their creativity. Perhaps, one day I will write a book, but for now, poetry is my chosen method of expression.
WRITING A DREAM A few lines of simple words, flowing together to weave a mood, To share a vision of images from the soul, To be visited, perhaps, once or time after time, like a beloved companion.
Thank you for being here.