Tonight I finished reading Five Go To Smuggler's Top with the nearly ten year old.
I used to love Enid Blyton. She is one of the reasons I have such a love affair with words (that and Jeffrey Archer) and yet now when I read her books I am either cringing at her descriptions of how life should be or giggling like a teenager every time something completely unsuitable is described.
My nearly ten year old loves Famous Five - it has taken years to get her excited about words and she struggles to read (that's an entirely different post). She lives in a world of i-carly and American TV but Enid Blyton still works in this world of gadgets, apps and whizzy thingy me bobs.
The lesson is all this...if it means that I can help my girl loves words like what I do - then I guess tomorrow night I will starting Five Go Off in a Caravan.
Ha! I know what you mean. I really wish Mrs Blyton wouldn't refer to the Secret Seven as the SS. 8yr old is completely oblivious but I cringe every time I read it!
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