Just seventeen

You know when you volunteer for something and then you wish you hadn’t because when it comes to doing it you are SO SCARED THAT YOU ARE TREMBLING WITH FEAR? I did that last week.

VERY brave.

Except it wasn’t anything fabulously daring like, say, abseiling down the side of Guy’s Hospital like my friend Bridget (who raised a stack of money for charity). Here she is, being VERY brave.

All I did was read bedtime stories at a festival to a few children. Actually, seventeen children. That’s SEVENTEEN. But if you have ever read picture books to seventeen children, you will know how scary it is. (Unless you are a very brave actor type. Or Mr Tumble.)

I sat down in an actual true-life yurt – and very nice it was too – and everyone stared at me. Silently. With eyes as big as saucers*. Waiting. Watching. (It was at this point that I would have jumped at the chance to abseil down Guy’s Hospital instead.) I took a deeeeeeeep breath.

Not really that brave at all. Quite a lot of fun, actually.

I’d already read this book to my little girl about a bazillion times, so I knew the words and off I went, trying to smile and not tremble. And it was by page four that I realised no one was looking at me. I could have been wearing a very tall hat and a long ginger plait for all they cared. All eyes were clamped on to the picture book. And they were loving it. All seventeen of them. So I figured that I might as well stop trembling and enjoy it too.

Which book have you totally loved this summer?

*More like dinner plates, tbh.