A never-ending austerity story

It was 50 years ago today that Enid Blyton died. I doubt I’d be sitting here writing this now had it not been for Blyton sparking a lifelong fascination for reading stories.

The Famous Five, Secret Seven and Mystery Books may have been populated with plummy voiced young toffs like Fred and Fatty, whose lives were as alien to mine as Zaphod Beeblebrox. But they opened a door to words which could otherwise have remained shut.

Shut, in fact, like the library soon will be where I borrowed my Famous Five books – one of 25 of our county’s 74 that are facing the axe.

Local councils starved of resources have closed around 500 libraries since the Tories came to power.

This country has produced some of the world’s best writers. Yet soon their books will remain shut to too many children.