One of my earliest memories involves being read stories by my mother. Raised in North America, she had the kind of sing-songy reading voice that is perfect for children’s literature. We had a load of old Dr Seuss and Disney fairy tales sent over from my granny in the US that I loved listening to. After a while we no longer needed the text, we both knew the stories off by heart.
I adored books, I devoured at least one a week as a child. I exhausted the local library, begging staff to order unobtainable titles from other sites and generally avoiding having to actually fork out any pocket money on a trip to Waterstones. I wasn’t fussy about what I read either: teen fiction was quickly followed by crime and horror novels, I then became fascinated with biographies and later travel guides, plotting journeys across the globe from my tiny bedroom in Edinburgh.Read More »