To sleep long during Sunday mornings, to grab your eiderdown duvet and the book with the magic horse story, to creep out from the bedroom and wrap yourself comfortable in the old blue bed in the cabin livingroom, never to think of time or watches, to travel deep, deep into the fairytale, carried by the flying hooves of your horse........
Can life be better?
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Sunday morning at cabin.
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Two childhood reading memories:
For my 8th birthday I got Mary Norton's The Borrowers
. After the party I sat down with a cousin to read the book. We co-read the first pages, then she had to go home. I finished though, and hardy put the book down untill it was finished. I knew for sure that relatives of the borrowers lived in our house, and even today I try to make egg sized woolen yarn balls like the old storyteller in the book did.
When I was 12 I was in hospital for a couple of weeks. My mother had a newborn baby at that time, my youngest brother Torodd/the piguin, and it was not easy for her to come for visit. My father came every day after work though, and on his way he stopped at the library to get me new books. Through him and his library visits I was introduced to Mary O'Hara's My Friend Flicka. The three books about the horse Flickan was read over and over again and was never forgotten. Yesra later I was able to buy the three books and now it is time to pass them over to next generation.
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Do you have any childhood reading stories to share?
