“You’ve got words in your soul”. A lovely way to describe the bibliophile.

One of my earliest memories is of getting some “pocket money”. We didn’t often get pocket money. Probably only three times in all my school years. I was one of seven with only one parent working. We lived 8 miles out of town on a farm. I was somewhere between five and eight years old because we left the farm at the end of grade three.

Anyway, this shilling (yes, it was the olden days before decimal currency) was a lot of money in those days, a veritable fortune! Well, I left the school grounds and went shopping. I spent all pocket money on, ta da, a Little Golden Book called “Out Of My Window”. It began with “Out of my window I can see, my Daddy coming home to me…”

Well, I went back to school and was showing my friends my brand new book, the first one I’d ever bought with ‘my own money’. So, what happened? Someone dropped their paddle pop (icecream) on my book and left a big juicy chocolate mark all over it. I was devastated, to say the least. I may even have shed a tear.

I remember my Mum from the time I could read, going crook on me for reading after lights out. I’d stand up beside the door and read using the light which came through the crack between the door and door jamb. If I’d had a torch it would have been under the blanket with me.

Reading was my escape, my solace, my friend, my way of living a million lives. Boarding school books, The Bobsey Twins, Enid Blyton – I read them all. Well, every book I could get my hands on. Every second day, if not every day, I went to the school library to change my books.

Things change, life goes on but books are a constant. These days I don’t get to read as often as I ‘d like to, but words and story are a big part of my life. Working as a writer and an editor is my dream job and I’d like to thank my clients for helping me make my dreams come true.