On Wednesday night I was baby sitting for friends of mine. As I am prone to do when in other people's homes, I went noseying around their bookshelves and found, to my delight, 'The Castle of Adventure' by Enid Blyton. As I child I loved her books, and especially the Adventure series. I picked it up and read a handful of sentences. And almost immediately, like a spell rising from its pages, I felt the old magic that I knew as a boy. I lifted the book to my chest and held it there, reliving that childhood joy of pure pleasure that a book can bring.
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