Five books that changed my life: 1. The Nickle Nackle Tree

Since we've moved house, I do a lot less commuting and I was determined to do something useful with that extra time so I've started reading more.  I've been discovering some fantastic new books, but also re-reading books that I haven't opened for years and it's really reminded me of how powerful books can be.  Over the next few weeks, I'm going to be sharing 5 books that changed my life, presented in chronological order of my reading them. 

So, here it is: the first book that changed my life...

1. The Nickle Nackle Tree, by Lynley Dodd

I was less than two years old when I first encountered The Nickle Nackle Tree.  It's a counting book full of silly rhymes and colourful pictures, helping children count to 14.  Yes, 14.  No tens or dozens for this unorthodox book.

I don't know if it was the six sleepy Snooze birds or the thirteen grouchy Grudge birds, but something about this book had me hooked.  Every night of my infant life, I wanted The Nickle Nackle Tree read to me.

In fact, it was read to me so much, that by my second birthday, I could recite it off by heart.  Not only that, but I had also learned where all the page turns were.  This meant that I no longer needed someone to read it to me: I could recite it from memory and turn the pages at the correct points.

When my parents were at work, I spent much of the time with my gran.  I was her only grandchild, so she liked any excuse to show me off a bit.  This often involved a trip to the butcher's, the Post Office or the hair dresser for no particular reason other than the usual chorus of, "Ooh, look how big he's getting."

Often, when visiting Mrs Henderson in the Post Office, I would perform a wee turn (my own rendition of Donald, Where's Yer Troosers? was a particular hit) in exchange for a sherbet lollipop.  Imagine Mrs Henderson's delight, then, when this precocious 2 year old walked into her shop, cleared some space among the envelopes and brown tape to take a seat on the bottom shelf and (appeared to) read aloud:

"In the Manglemunching Forest there's a Nickle Nackle tree,
growing Nickle Nackle berries that are red as red can be..."

I had it down to a fine art, with my combination of funny voices for the cheerful chirpy piles of cheeky Chizzle birds and knowing precisely the moment to turn the page.  Mrs Henderson nearly fainted, astonished by the young literacy prodigy she saw before her.  Mr gran was so caught up in the limelight of her genius grandchild that she played along, and pretty soon I was demonstrating my "reading skills" to Mr Shah the shopkeeper, Mr Boyle the butcher and even the minister Mr McLean.

It can't have taken long for people to work out that the reason I always "read" the same book wasn't simply artistic temperament or personal preference, but the taste of celebrity this book brought me was nice while it lasted. 

Last year for my birthday, my parents bought me a copy of The Nickle Nackle Tree and, although I still know it off by heart, I do enjoy sitting with the book, reading aloud and turning the pages at the right moment, casting my mind back to a time when the things that mattered most in life were Mrs Henderson's sherbet lollipops.