The bedtime story

was an important part of my life - until I could read them for myself.
One of my earliest memories is sitting on my father's bony knees close to the warmth of our "Metters No. 5" - the standard type of wood burning stove provided all departmental housing for teachers. The Senior Cat would have one arm around me and that hand holding the book. His other hand would point to each word as he read to me. I was about eighteen months old at the time. 
I don't know what the "squiggles" on the page meant at that time. I do know that, according to the Senior Cat, I could recognise some words by the time I was two.  
My mother didn't read to me. Perhaps she was too busy with other things. I don't know. I cannot remember her ever reading to me at bedtime. It was the Senior Cat's role. He loved to read. Even now he reads. He hasn't watched television for years. I only watch a half hour a day - an international news service. Occasionally something gets advertised and I think, "that might be interesting". I never remember to watch. We read.
I read for myself early. I could read for myself by the time I was four. My mother did help with that. The house was covered in words I had asked for. My mother would print it in her beautiful "infant school" print and stick it or pin it to whatever the object was or add it to the lists of words on the refrigerator and cupboards. I was taught to "sound the word" out.
But what did I read? The question came up some days ago when the mother of  T...-across-the-road told me that he was enjoying "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory". T's mother is a paediatrician and well aware of the importance of bedtime stories.T... is five and well on the way to reading - and he gets a bed time story. The question came up in the sense that we were wondering what T... should experience next. The answer to that will probably be one of the Moomin books. I think they will appeal to him.
But yes, what did I read? There weren't nearly as many books around then. I had things like "The story about Ping" and "Make way for ducklings", "Millions of Cats" and the "Little Golden Books" like "The little taxi that hurried" and "Splish Splash Rainy Day".  I had Peter Rabbit,  Winnie the Pooh, Little Grey Rabbit and Madeline. When I could read for my myself  I graduated to Joyce Lancaster Brisley's books about "Milly-Molly-Mandy" and Hugh Lofting's "Dr Dolittle" books.  The "Little House on the Prairie" books were there too. There were the short stories of Alison Uttley and Eleanor Farjeon and the fairy tales of Andrew Lang.
And there were more.  When we moved to the city for a while I read about Homer the Tortoise, the Moomins, Pippi Longstocking, Susan and her friend R. Dragon.
T... won't have all of those. He will have some - and others - because I have them. Many of them are no longer available in libraries. They have, understandably, been replaced by other things. He won't be interested in some but I hope he will enjoy others. He may have some he would not read for himself read to him instead. That's good.
But I think I was lucky. I grew up in a golden age of children's literature. There were no television or other screens to distract me. I was read to until I could read for myself.