I feel my childhood books were so very special then, as they are now to me. Books in general are very important to me, they offer me comfort and strength when things aren’t going great in my life.

As a child they were an escape to other worlds where you could forget about your real life for awhile. I love to that you can live another life, through these beloved characters. They were also friends and very real indeed to me.

I would have to say I read a lot of Enid Blyton books when growing up, and was totally spellbound over the adventures these kids got to do, without their Parent’s uttering a word. When I wasn’t allowed to leave the backyard at all by myself, after doing so and giving my Mum a heart attack.

I think to they were one of the first books I tried read by myself, of course a little bit of help from my folks. Even young as I was words held a total fascination with me. I was always asking what this word was and that one was. My thirst for knowledge was aiding with being around the written word, and that my keenest for learning.

I remember to reading Adventures of Huckleberry Finn as well and thinking of ending up on a paddlesteam on the Mississippi river. These might of been old writers, but at the time, when growing up there wasn’t really any books appropriate for my age. Young adult genre was relatively new area for book publishers, not like today where shelves of bookstores now, have entire sections dedicated to Young Adults.

I feel though my book reading has been strongly influenced by classic authors, and that I feel eternally grateful, for what I have learnt from these authors, and the stories they have told me over the years.

There has been always Dickens in my life, as well as Thomas Hardy and of course the Bronte sisters, and then there is poetry that caught my eye a lot in upper Primary school, and still holds my soul. Where I learnt about Daffodils from Wordworth, John Keats about English gardens, and Japanese form of poetry I simply adore Haiku.

There are realistic thousands of books I have read since I was a child, then young girl, teenager and then young adult until now. As it gets close to summer, I think about days gone by where I couldn’t wait until summer holidays, where I could spend endless days with my head in a book and nothing else. They really were wonderful times, that I maybe took for granted, now I am all grown up. What a pleasure it would be to go back in time, and relive those careless days of reading.

Unfortunately I can not, but still summer school holidays will be spent a good chunk of with my head in a book of some sort. Times never ever changes that much, we only grow, the world around us stays the same.

Let me know what childhood books you remember ? And if you ever pull them down from the bookshelf and it again ?

Adieu for now Kitty-Kat xox