Walking the walk.
I was determined that I would be Enid Blyton when I grew up. My earliest memories involve me straining my eyes by torchlight under my covers, too captivated by the world I was transported to and the characters I met there, to contemplate going to sleep.
I had a nurturing primary school teacher who encouraged me to read as many different genres as I could and to write, write and then write some more. (Thank you Mr Townsend).
As I grew older, while I never lost my love of reading, writing fell by the wayside. Much to my disappointment I just grew bigger and never turned into my favourite author and It seemed ludicrous to ever conceive I would be in print one day. Anyway, I had a job, a family and many hobbies to keep me occupied.
In my 30s I had a car accident which caused some spinal…
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