I must have been a total pain when I was a pre-school child. I would snub any book that didn’t have a car, plane or some other kind of mechanised transport in it somewhere. Yet I still had a voracious appetite for printed matter, like a flesh and blood version of Johnny 5, constantly demanding more input.
But my parents were able to judge my requirements with uncanny precision. I would like to introduce to you the first storybook I ever fell in love with. The Little Red Metro; For Sale, by Avril Rowlands
