In a recent tidy of storage space, my mother found a box of my possessions. As well as quite a few short stories that I thought had gone missing forever, the box contained a strange mixture of papers from my past.
Very little went back beyond university, but there was a scattering of work from high school. One was a school assignment I did when I was not-quite-twelve. In an ideal school, I felt, teachers would also wear uniform so that they couldn’t tell students “well, you’ve got your uniforms” when the students tell them how well they’re dressed.
I also had a list of the books I had out from the library. All mistakes were made by my near-twelve self.
Most of the books I can remember, but, oddly, not The Outsiders. I was saying just two weeks ago I needed to read it. It obviously didn’t make an impression on my younger self!
The books were:
Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
The Railway Children by Edith Nesbit
The Pirate’s Treasure
Escape Alone by David Howarth
Ordeal of Innocence by Agatha Christie
Helen Keller’s Teacher
The Island of Blue Dolphins