In some ways, they seemed the darkest of evenings.
Growing up in a large family has its ups and downs, one of the downs being loneliness. Add to that a fear of the dark and nightly conversations with the spirit world and it isn't toohard to see why some children fall in love with books.
Since an early age, I have had an intensely vivid imagination so you can imagine my sheer delight when I started to read The Worst Witch books as a seven year old girl. I remember the first book of the collection I had taken out from the then existing library, now sadly closed but then a library in a small town seldom stays open forever.
I remember the excitement as a young girl going to the library in the town where I lived. It was small building but wall to wall all you could see were books. I loved sitting there because they had decorated the children's room in such calming colours and it was always silent (another perk when you are raised in a large family is being able to get away from noise). There were also small cars built for children to sit in as they read there, I remained there for quite some time each visit while my Dad would wander about looking for a few books to read himself. I think I inherited my love of books from him and my Nan, she was an avid reader in her time.
Anyway, back to the root. The Worst Witch books - they changed my life.
Recently I became aware that the author of these books has passed away. Jill Murphy, an exceptional writer of skilled imaginative talent and a writer that had given me so much happiness with her books as I grew and found my place in this strange world has left for her journey home.
I am glad I grew up in a time when I was able to enjoy her novels as a child. I wanted to be Mildred (the Worst Witch), to make a broom and fly far away. I wanted to sit on the moon and hear it's stories of old. I wanted to make potions and have a magickal cat as my totem. I wanted to understand toad's language and wear a witches pointy hat and learn the craft of spells.
Reading such books in lamplight as a storm howled outside and shadows crept across walls was an experience to harden even the most fragile, sensitive of souls and I was indeed that but I found a strength in absorbing the tales of The Worst Witch that gave solace to dark nights of Autumn.
In many ways, I became Mildred Hubble...I say smiling. Our role models from earlier on are perhaps a reflection of our inner spirit I think. The Worst Witch book series gave me hope and comfort, humour and adventure, solace and magickal meanderings that took me to places I didn't want to return from.
As the years have floated by in some gentle and some turbulent waves, I realise how lucky it is that books like these still exist in the now. Some child somewhere is always in need of the company of a good book, books become friends, portals in which to travel and survive life, a comfort which to grow with.
That is why I decided to give my collection of The Worst Witch books to my youngest niece who has read, re-read and read them again finding immense joy in owning them, they have become a friend to her too.
To pass such a treasure down to a "mini-me" as I call her is an emotive experience. I know she will hold on to those books until she deems it a worthwhile idea to pass them down herself, I know they will give her immense happiness and nothing could make me more at peace than to know she will find comfort in them as I once did (and still do).
The cycles of life - both precious and reflective in their meaningfulness.
To Jill Murphy, I say thank you.
Thank you for leaving a legacy of books that gave me more joy than you will possibly know. I was shaped by them and could find stillness within chaos as I read them over and over.
Thank you for creating a world that was a doorway to wonder and wander through.
May you travel well and peacefully.
Words Among Trees
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