I am sitting at my desk and looking with delight at the glass window of the book case part of this old bureau that I write at. Through the glass, on the shelves within, are colours and designs, on the spines of books, so familiar to me. There are names that brought me great joy in my childhood. I recognise familiar titles that bring a huge smile to my face, as I recall the adventures behind them. Images that were not actually in these childhood books, but that my imagination created, while I was reading them.
Authors, such as Enid Blyton, C.S. Lewis and Willard Price who fired my imagination and made me dream not only of the adventures about which they wrote, but of becoming a writer, myself. This year, I have published both digital short story e-books and a paperback autobiographical work and I must admit that achieving the ambition of becoming a writer is completely and utterly fulfilling. I am looking forward to adding to my portfolio of published works next year and, alongside this, I have written two short plays which I have submitted to an online competition.
I have been working on de-cluttering, at home, over the past week or two. I have delved into cupboards and pulled out boxes that I usually think ‘I’ll sort through those very soon’, when I see or think of them. It was through doing this that I discovered a box filled with my childhood favourite books and it was a most wonderful feeling to reconnect with them. Just seeing these once adored books; their familiar book covers and the titles of the books has taken me not only back to the memory of these vivid and fantastical stories, but the experience has also brought back some delightful memories of childhood that would otherwise remain ‘in a file’, within the filing cabinet that is my brain. These are the things we do not think about unless we are triggered into accessing one of those ‘files’. It is a joy to be reminded.
My parents were very keen for me to learn to read and write, as early as possible. In fact, my reading level was very good when I started infants school and I was already writing with ‘joined-up letters’ (that once seemed so important!) when I started infants school. Unfortunately, I was then discouraged to write in that way and was made to regress so that I was in line with my classmates, the minute I started school. I suppose this was the way things were done in the mid 1970’s and my first teacher was an elderly woman; incredibly nice but she would have been passing on much to me that would be of another era. Indeed, she was the person who discouraged my left-handedness and taught me to write with my right hand, instead. I doubt that still happens, today.
Given how much I have enjoyed seeing my cherished childhood books, here are some photos of some of them.
Perhaps you will see some much loved favourites here? Maybe you will be reminded of the adventures these books, and others, took you on as you read in your childhood? Perhaps some of your own treasured memories will come to the surface and will bring a smile to your face? If so, please do let me know, by posting a comment below. It would be a joy to share this experience with you.
(C) Dean G. Parsons. 2019.