I loved Rupert Bear, but it was a somewhat clandestine relationship as my mother did not approve of his provenance. She would not let Enid Blyton into the house either as she thought the depiction of the gollywogs in Noddy was racist, they lived in a ugly town with lots of smoke. And were the baddies. I got round the ban of course, and smuggled a friend's Famous Five books into the house under plain cover. Now of course I can see how sexist they were, ("almost as good as a boy,") and the casual snobbery, (throwing a biscuit to the poor boy who lurked near their picnic). And absolutely agree with my mother. I could quote Oscar Wilde (now she loved his plays and short stories, she was always pro-gay) about women growing up be like their mothers.
You can still enjoy reading about the famous five without bothering about plain covers. Search Amazon for 'Enid Blyton for adults'. My Naughty Nephew bought me one for Christmas - Enid Blyton, 'Five on Brexit Island' (he voted to remain, I didn't). In the past he has bought me Ladybird Books, too rude to mention here. It all stems from us going out for a meal and me ordering a small portion. It turned out to be a child's portion which came with some crayons and a picture to colour, which I did. The pictures were then pinned on the wall with the child's name, Joan age 6, John age 7, Mary age 6, Don age 84. Since then I've received some very odd presents for my birthday and Christmas.
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