I would be most content if my children grew up to be the kind of people who think decorating consists mostly of building enough bookshelves.

[Anna Quindlen, "Enough Bookshelves," New York Times, 7 August 1991]


Books from your childhood, if you were a reader, nestle in your memory like uncut diamonds. You often don't remember them unless prompted. For me:

• The Adventures of Snugglepot and Cuddlepie - May Gibbs. A book that has moved house with me. I still look at banksia trees and imagine them to be the evil Banksia Men. A gumnut evokes images of chubby cherubs scantily clad in loin cloths made of gum leaves.
• The Folk of the Faraway Tree - Enid Blyton. Who could forget pop biscuits and google buns? Moonface, Mister Watzisname, Silky, and the Saucepan Man? The Land of Take-What-You-Want, the Land of Dame Slap, the Land of Topsy-Turvy, the Land of Spells, the Land of Goodies, the Land of Dreams and the glorious Land of Birthdays.
• Malory Towers and St Clare's - Enid Blyton again. The lure of boarding school when you were 8 years old was inescapable. Midnight feasts, lacrosse, and sprained ankles...
• Anything, anything at all, by Roald Dahl. My favourite? Matilda. And I blame him for my sweet tooth, thanks to the visions inspired by Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.