Back in 1964, we all wanted to be Jane or Michael Banks. They were sharing their world with the perfectly perfect Julie Andrews as the immortal Mary Poppins who, just by clicking her fingers, was making their lives supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.
Glasgow for a few days, before moving on to the Lake District for a week, then on to Harrogate, the place of Betty’s Tea Rooms and my birth.
I fell in love whilst basking in the sun in Gran Canaria and the thing is with these holiday romances, they don't last but the memories stick with you, especially when the object of your infatuation is a cracking good read. In my case, I was hopelessly gone by page 3 and nearly rocked myself... Continue Reading →