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My favourite summer-reading memory is from my childhood. I was obsessed with camping. Well, I was obsessed with sleeping anywhere other than in my bed. I didn’t care where the tent was pitched. The backyard was fine. I spent that weekend ploughing through Judy Blume’s Superfudge series in my red undies – it was really hot, you understand. It was hotter inside the tent than outside. But I preferred being inside the tent. That was the whole point. Mum was worried about me dehydrating and having a seizure or something, so she brought me drinks and pleaded with me to come inside.
To this day I can think of no greater way to spend a summer holiday. Only I’d pitch the tent somewhere on the Mornington peninsula, replace the cordial with a couple of coldies, and there would be no inside to retreat to. It could still be the Superfudge series though! I might include a copy of Vendela Vida’s Let the Northern Lights Erase your Name – a book so stylishly accomplished you would crave a coffee inside the sweltering tent as you follow Clarissa through the northern Arctic Circle. And even though I’ve read the whole thing at least three times already, I’d happily glide through the summer issue of Voiceworks again. Plug plug!
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