Let Books Be Books – where’s the harm?

This post has now moved to here.

I was very lucky as a child to have a mother who adored books, and she passed this love of reading on to me. I would read anything I could get my hands on (my mother ended up hiding her horror collection from me), from The BFG to Little Women, Goosebumps to The Famous Five, The Hardy Boys to The Hobbit, you name it, I read it.

If you’d told me that I couldn’t read certain children’s books I’d have been very disappointed – and probably have snuck a read anyway.

Like I say, I was lucky to have been brought up by my mother. Turns out I was also lucky to have been born when I was.

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