Bookworm

I am something of a freak in modern society. Or at least some people would see me that way. Because I like nothing better of a cold afternoon than to whack on a CD, curl up with a coffee and read a book. Forget TV, forget DVDs, even forget conversation sometimes! I LOVE to read.

True, I am slightly abnormal in that I'm a prodigious reader. I devour books - on a quiet holiday I can get through 16-20 in a two week stretch. But I think even occasional readers would be shocked at what I discovered today.

One of my colleagues has never read Roald Dahl's 'The Twits'.

How is this possible?!! Yes, I was a huge Roald Dahl fan as a child and read everything of his that I could get my hands on, twice. But Dahl is such a huge childrens' favourite that I can't believe other kids were deprived of such great, wacky, in places sick and twisted imagery and narrative ability!

True, I am such a worshipper that for my 25th birthday Mum took me to the Roald Dahl museum in Great Missenden, Bucks - based in the house where he used to live. I fully admit that most of the other spectators enjoying the exhibits that day were under 4ft tall. But when I sat in the actual armchair where he used to write his books, a shiver of greatness shot up my spine. Afterwards we climbed the hill to the churchyard where he is buried to see the huge stone BFG footprints which wind up the hill to his final resting place under an oak tree. It was such a fitting end for a man who lived in dreamworlds and dared to share them.

My cousin recently had a baby and bemoaned that they were swamped in clothes from wellwishers. Why not ditch the gifts of clothes and instead buy a classic book? The Hungry Caterpillar. The Elephant and The Baby. Not Now Bernard. Anything by Janet & Allan Ahlberg or the mighty Roald Dahl. Do it! (And while you're at it, buy yourself a copy too - you never know, you might rediscover a side of you that you never knew you'd lost.)