The books I loved as a child have lasted – but the world has changed

Rereading favourite books from childhood with my son brought us closer, but underlined how much life has moved on

My son James has always been a bit of an explorer, and sometimes he’ll come across something unexpected. There’s the unidentified animal skull he brought home from a woodland walk, the corroded half crown he found half-buried in a park. But his most exciting discovery to date has come closer to home – a stash of battered and yellowing children’s books he found in a cluttered cupboard.

I’d forgotten they were there – the stories I’d devoured between the ages of about eight and 11, all packed into straining black bin bags. As we emptied them on to the living room floor, James peppered me with questions. What were they about? Which had been my favourites? Could we read them together?

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