Goldilocks had her porridge. Or, to be more precise, she had porridge belonging to the three bears. And one of the porridges was just right.
The last books I read about Goldilocks and her pal Jack, of beanstalk fame, were the new boardbooks by Tony Ross earlier this year. Boardbooks are hard to review, and fairly hard to pass on to a suitable reader. When you’re my age you don’t know many boardbook-aged people.
Or perhaps that’s just me.
The other day I went out to lunch. It was a free lunch; pea soup followed by pancakes with cream and jam, Swedish style, all eaten in good company. I actually remembered to bring the books, and after a happy coincidence of chatting about books, I even remembered to get them out of my bag, to hand them to Baby Tollarp.
This lovely child threw himself over the books, and immediately started to gnaw the edges and the corners. Most gratifying.
It was lunch, after all. And whereas he was allowed to sample a sliver of pancake, this six-month-old only had literature to satisfy that empty feeling.