A book that’s like coming home

A while ago, I had a moan on Facebook about how difficult I was finding it to get hold of a book I loved when I was a kid. The Reluctant Vampire by Eric Morecambe snared my imagination when I was still young enough to try and turn my bunk beds into a coffin with the help of a spider-webbed sheet scavenged from the garage and I’ve never forgotten it since.Reluctant

I didn’t have my own copy, I borrowed it from the library over and over again (thanks Portobello Library for letting me!). I’ve been wanting to get my hands on this book for a long time but hoping I could find it without having to pay six times its cover price. I’ve been keeping an eye open but hadn’t thought about it for quite a while when a package came through my door last week.

My friend Jason spotted a well-loved copy of this very book and bought it for me. Then shipped it all the way from NYC without telling me what he was doing. I ripped open the envelope feeling mild curiosity that was quickly replaced by a big bubble of elation.

I jumped up, had a little dance to myself, ran through to show Fin then sat back down and reacquainted myself with this little book that has somehow become a big part of the story of growing up. It was bloody brilliant.