When I was little, I was very lucky that my mum read to me. A lot. We lived abroad and there wasn’t much else entertainment. Also I was a poorly child, my adenoids were incredibly persistent and even grew back after an obviously rather unsuccessful attempt at removal. To save my mum’s voice, I was bought a copy of The Velveteen rabbit<em read by John Le Mesurier. I loved it. So today I found a beautifully illustrated copy of the book and I am so excited about reading it. I can almost anticipate the tears, but in a good way. In fairness I went to buy my goddaughter a present but indulged myself instead. It feels a bit decadent but it’s a present to myself for the new year. Perhaps I should do it more often.