You can celebrate sausage week if you want to. But for me, World Book Week wins every time.
Admittedly, it’s a close run race, as I do love a sausage. But sausages feed you for an hour. A great book will sustain you for a lifetime.
I don’t remember it being much of a thing whilst I was at school. Mum certainly wasn’t up till all hours the night before World Book Day making me a costume to wear to school. And for that, I’m sure she is extremely thankful.
I’m not sure who I would have gone as. Maybe Aslan. Probably Eeyore. Most likely Garfield. (Yes, I know a cartoon. But I LOVED my Garfield books.) I expect Mum would have dressed me as a fairy or a witch and told me to just identify as one of the many fairytale characters that fit the wings or black hat. I wouldn’t blame her. Who wants to be sewing a lion suit for a hefty child and wondering how the hell they were going to make a ball of wool look anything like a mane?
Who would I choose now? Probably Death from “The Book Thief” – but then I’ve always looked best in black.
Because it’s World Book Day today, I think there’s no better time to share some more images from my Little Bookworm Project with you and to introduce a fantastic little bookworm I know. She’s borderline book obsessed and that is no bad thing. Say hello to Imogen.
At the foot of her bed live a cast of characters and a very real hamster. I once had a disastrous run in with my sister’s pet hamster, so I declined Imogen’s very kind offer to give him a cuddle. Instead, he slept peacefully amongst the sawdust and left us to the very important task of selecting a favourite book to read.
Imogen had done her homework. She’d drawn up a list of some of her favourites, noting down the reasons they should make it to the top spot. Notice how one book got all of the attention.
But she just wasn’t sure. Couldn’t decide between them. Didn’t want to upset the ones left behind, I think.
When it came down to it, we had two battling authors: Jacqueline Wilson vs. Enid Blyton. So I couldn’t help her as I’d NEVER read any Enid Blyton as a kid (is that shameful?) and Jacqueline Wilson came a little after my childhood reading years.
We decided to leave it up to chance. Time for a little eeny-meeny-miny-moe.
You can’t kid a kidder, Imogen. I knew where your lovely heart belonged the whole time. So I’ll ignore the “help” you gave fate in choosing.
This time, my little bookworm chose the magical adventures and enchanted woods of “The Magic Faraway Tree.” Wouldn’t you?
“Would you read a little to me?”
She’s a folder of pages to mark her spot. I’ll forgive her that. Mostly because I know my weird opinions on book husbandry belong to a cult of just one.
She’s a clear, confident reader. I loved listening to her read, watching her smile at the bits that she loved, tackling this huge book with a 9 year old’s hands.
“Is this where you read the most?”
“In my room a lot. But anywhere I am. Anywhere I go.”
“Even on the train to London.”
“Let’s hop on a train then.”
So together with her mum and one of her little sister’s, we went on a single stop adventure. After all, “books are a uniquely portable magic” so why not?
When Imogen grows up, she wants to write stories. But she doesn’t need to grow up to be a storyteller. She’s already there.
P.S. Have a little bookworm in your life? Take part in the project.
P.P.S. British Sausage Week is coming this November. Get your bangers ready.