Regarding books one likes to read, in my late teens Mary Webb’s Gone to Earth was my favourite. I shed tears over it. Her other books were lovely also, and I read all Georgette Heyer’s Georgian and Reginey romances.

In later years, I was enthralled by Dorothy Dennett’s Crawford of Lymond (a Scottish saga) and the sweeping Niccolo series, for her knowledge of that period (1470 circa) and lyrical language. There were fourteen in all and I devoured them. Superb!

I also admire W.E.B Griffins Pacific war series and Louis L’amour and Alan le May’s fine westerns. I liked your Delderfield books and loved Ruth Park’s Pink Flannels. I think it should be a set book for schools. I wonder what a delderfield is?

I mustn’t forget The Catcher in the Rye and Gone with the Wind. In my bookcase, there’s a dilapidated copy of 1066 And All That (pub 1933). Its mangled version of English history still makes me giggle.
I know I have mentioned too many books but there’s a long history of reading behind me starting with dad’s set of Arthur Mee’s encyclopaedies, which together with a Rhode Island Red rooster called Scaramouche were my companions when we were living near Mackay in the early 1930s.

I have a Toby jug depicting Sairey Gamp with her brolly forming the handle. She looks a right old boozy character as a lot of midwives were in that era. “Gin was mother’s milk to ‘er”, also “Drunk for a penny, dead drunk for thrippence”. Who wrote that last quote?

It’s 2am and a grey owl just beat on my kitchen window; maybe after a gecko, or perhaps it recognises another of its kind in me, a night bird.

Enid Smith
Deception Bay, Qld