Nostalgia

A day of rest today from the exhausting business of being a tourist.

When I was the Little Ginger Boy's age I was obsessed with the literary canon of Enid Blyton. Yes, literary, yes, canon. I'll have no truck with the Blyton bashers. Famous Five, Secret Seven, Magic Faraway Tree, Malory Towers, St Clares, Naughtiest Girl, if someone upset me (and my brother would step in to amply fulfil that role if no one else volunteered) I would retreat to my room and jump into a better world.

I found my mum's Famous Fives (published 1952) in the attic the other day and the force is strong today for me to escape into a world of hard boiled eggs, sandwiches in greaseproof paper, smugglers and shipwrecks. Little Ginger Boy is more a Secret Seven kind of guy, which is just fine by me. Means I won't have to share.