When I was a little girl my favourite stories were by Enid Blyton: The Magic Faraway Tree and The Wishing Chair. My sister and I would get our grandmother to read these books to us over and over again, until finally we started reading them ourselves. Even now I can still remember the scenes I pictured in my head although I haven’t read the books in over twenty-five years. I wanted to be able to climb to the top of the Faraway Tree and have adventures in the magical lands there - The Land of Birthdays; the Land of Do-As-You-Please; The Land of Spells. If I were to go there now I would want to visit the Land of Endless Summer Days or perhaps The Land of Self Belief. This love of magic and fantasy morphed into horror and science fiction as I got older. Books by JG Ballard, James Herbert and Stephen King were always to be found in my clammy palms, and later the fantasy came full circle as I started reading Danielle Steel - her take on love and relationships is fantasy bordering on delusion but it was in those saccharine books I began to stitch together my romantic dreams. My teenage self wished for a man who would take her away from her boring seaside life and make her a real woman as they traveled the world and made love beside a roaring fire. Sitting here now in the Land of Hindsight I remember nights in Kenya with my love, and I see how the fantasy became reality; I also see how the tragic end could have been taken from the pages of one of my dog-earred books. Now I attempt to write my own book, one that fills in the gaps those other books left in my education - about grief and pain, about self awareness and empowerment. I write a story of survival, and of finding the grace to accept what has happened, of taking up the thread of the past and letting it lead me into the future.