I grew up in freezing cold Kent in the 1950s and early 60s. Once I had found my love of books and reading, the problem was where to be that was warm and comfortable. In my chilly house (definitely no central heating), the answer was the airing cupboard! This was in the kitchen next to the boiler that was a scary, hot monster that needed to be fed constantly with coke.
There were 2 high up shelves in the cupboard but space for me to squeeze myself in front of the water tank and leave the door slightly open to provide enough light. The warmth felt luxurious and I was so cosy. The cat frequently wanted to join me which meant that we sometimes both became too hot. However, on the whole it worked beautifully and I worked my way through Alison Uttley’s Little Grey Rabbit books before moving onto Enid Blyton and Noel Streatfeild.
The idyll came to an end of course when I grew and just couldn’t fold up my legs to fit inside the cupboard. By then my father had given me the most miraculous, wonderful gift of an electric blanket and I could read happily in bed night and morning, even when there was frost on the inside of my bedroom window. And so then the reading beyond the airing cupboard began…
Susan Brice