Recently I've found myself wanting to dig out my old children's books. Whether this sudden desire for childhood nostalgia has been triggered by the recent passing of the late and great children's author Dick King Smith, I am not entirely sure. What I am sure of, however, is that he really influenced my imagination as a child, from Sophie's Tom to The Hodgeheg  and The Sheep-Pig (later adapted into the film Babe) I gobbled up each of his stories as relatives would ring Mum for birthdays or for Christmas to check which stories I hadn't already read. 

The first story I ever wrote (with chapters!) was photocopied by Dad down in the Co-op and then sent to Dick King Smith to read. As an ambitious eight year old, I'm not actually sure what I was expecting to happen, I think I just wanted him to know that he inspired me. Anyway, three weeks later an eveloped landed on our doormat. The spidery handwriting was admittedly a challenge, but Mum helped me and I was very chuffed to see the signature right at the bottom from Mr King-Smith himself. I still have his letter in a box on my bookshelf, along with a signed photo of Rolf Harris. I was saddened to hear that Dick King-Smith passed away in his sleep in January as I had wanted to send him a copy of my first book. I doubt that he would have remembered me as the little girl who sent him 15 stapled pages of words, but I've always remembered him and I think I always will.