I have never claimed to have a good memory, but now it seems even things I thought I knew are incorrect. For the past few years I have been happily telling interviewers that my favourite book while growing up was Alan Garner’s The Owl Service. Having now purchased and re-read it for the sake of nostalgia, I find that it wasn’t the book I was remembered at all! Now I have no idea what the book that I pointed my torch at under the covers actually was. I can’t tell you how disappointed I am. I feel a little less like myself.