I’ve had an experience today that couldn’t have been worse if I’d stripped off and run around the seminar room stark naked in front of my peers. I’ve made myself look like a total fool.

It came about because we were asked to take in a book that was precious to us when we were children. I thought about it and decided that my book had to be an old book of Lancashire Monologues that my Dad used to read to us from when we were small. Our favourite story was “The Lion and Albert”, a fabulous tale, told in verse, about a family day out to Blackpool that goes badly wrong with some consequences that would be regarded as morally strange.

I had to go on a “treasure hunt” to find the book. I phoned my Mum, who said she’d find it for me and send it out in that day’s post so it would arrive in time even though she couldn’t locate it at the time of the call. I later got a call from my sister who told me that she’d got the book and, because she didn’t trust the normal post with our precious book, she’d send it special delivery.

It duly arrived on Monday, in plenty of time for my “show and tell”. I’d never really looked closely at the book before but I always remember it being “old”. It was priced four shillings but there was no date on it anywhere.

So, the show and tell day was today. The lecturer was ambling about looking at the books people had chosen and showed a strong interest in mine. I was asked to tell my talk buddy about why the book had significance to me and to read a passage from it. I couldn’t get my words out properly because I got choked up.

The lecturer asked people to volunteer what they’d brought in and why. I kept quiet because I didn’t want a repeat of the same thing again. That would be too embarrassing. Then, in a moment I’d dreaded, she said “Linda, your book was interesting tell us the story of the book”. Next thing I knew, there I was, metaphorically running around the room naked, exposing my all to my peers…

“This book is precious to my family and to me. To understand its significance you have to understand that neither of my parents finished their education – my Dad’s was cut short when he was forced to leave school and go down the pit to pay his own way in life because the children’s home where he lived wouldn’t keep him beyond the age when he could go and get a job. My Mum had to leave school at 15 to go to work to help her widowed Mum support her three siblings. They were determined that we should have the education they didn’t get. I went to twelve primary schools so my formal education was rubbish but I got all of the love and support to read, write and do maths at home.

The Lion and Albert was the favourite book of Jan and I – we’d sit on my Dad’s knee. I know, I know I’m a lucky girl to have a full time Dad whose knee was so cosy, safe and warm. We’d have a knee each and my Dad’s arms would envelop us in love and he’d hold the book so we could see and read along with him. The secret weapon was my Dad, who is, as I’ve said before, a storyteller of such sublime perfection it’s hard to imagine how he could ever be bettered. He was a master of meaning and the genuine Lancashire accent is embedded in my memory to this day. Somehow I know I will never feel as safe or as well-protected as I was when I was hearing about what happened to Albert.

Albert’s downfall was that he didn’t like the Lion’s “somnolent posture” – big words for two little girls to comprehend but it didn’t stop us – we loved that phrase. Albert got gobbled up by the lion and thereafter a horse-trade ensued for how much he was “worth” in compensation. The final couple of verses were the local magistrate saying he hoped that the couple would have more children and the Mum saying why should she raise more children if they’d just be fed to lions! (Some moral!)

The main thing though was the safety and love in Dad’s arms as he read to us. We may have never had any money. We may have had a shocking upbringing – fourteen schools in my school lifetime, twelve in primary years. We always knew though that we were loved by both Mum and Dad. While Mum didn’t take part in the reading of the Lion and Albert, she was always there, the whole family together. That’s why The Lion and Albert is so precious to me and to Jan. It’s also why I broke down and cried in front of 25 post grad students and a lecturer. It’s also why I may as well have stripped naked and run around the room. I could not have exposed myself any more.”