Not everyone will be influenced by the same books. There are probably people in the world who don’t appreciate Wuthering Heights. There are people who fail to be drawn in to Fahrenheit 451. There may even be people in the world, strange wrong people, who have never read Roddy the Roadman.

Actually given that last one is an obscure children’s novel written by the wonderfully named Phyliss Arkle and first published in 1970 and I was forced to read to my mother for half an hour each night when I was about eight or nine, I am fairly sure that few people have read and been deeply influenced by that book, and its sequels, because they have been out of print for many years. That I was forced to read to my mother was not, I should note, any form of cruelty on her part. I struggled with English, more specifically reading, due to being dyslexic (which was not diagnosed till I was about twelve). Teacher couldn’t get me to read, mum could, so she did,. every night for several years.

The Roddy the Roadman series had a central conceit that fascinated me as a child and that in turn encouraged me to read them. Which is to say I’d only complain to the minimal required amount about having to read them to mum. This conceit was that the figures in road signs could come alive in the early hours when the people of the town were abed. Roddy himself was a men at work sign. The one oft confused, by the human boy who discovers the road-signs are coming alive, as the man opening an umbrella in a strong wind…

I have not read these books for over forty years. Tempting through it would be to track down a copies of them now for nostalgia sake I suspect they would fail to live up to my vague but glorious recollections. That said, they are out of print and so go for upwards of £100 a book in ‘library’ condition. So some bibliophiles out there have long memories for forgotten childhood treasures. I am not therefore alone in my affection for this somewhat forgotten series.

Whats my point, you may ask. Well simply this, every book, by every author, has the potential to have a profound effect on a reader, may be not many readers, maybe not always for the good (E L James for example was responsible for a upswing in light bondage sales, all the while being an utterly dreadful representation of sub/dom relationships. As well as just being so badly written.)

Yes I have gone from talking about a beloved children’s took to slating 50 Shades of Grey, whats your point?

In any regard, Phyllis Arkle manged to be an extraordinary influence on the young me. Mum didn’t buy these books, I got them out on my library card, I picked them because of a central and frankly ridiculous conceit. I read them, to my mum, because I wanted to read them. Because they fired my imagination and made me want to read more.

Despite dyslexia. Despite a morbid fear of reading aloud (to anyone but my mum). Despite it being a slow process that took years to really come to grips with . I read Roddy the Roadman and I’ve never really stopped reading since then and inspire my love of books, reading and of course writing…

So if you are ever looking for someone to blame for everything I have ever written, her names Phyllis Arkle… Bless her cotton socks.