Still, despite doing well in school, by the age of eleven I’d seen almost none of the classic children’s books that make those broadsheet ‘100 Best …’ lists each year: A.A. Milne, C.S. Lewis, E. Nesbit. Those tomes that apparently enrich the soul. I’d never heard of Dickens, Shakespeare or Tolkien. I knew nothing of Greek mythology or been tipped off that Latin was even a thing. The stuff you need a smattering of if you want to pass as posh.
