I keep my books, always have, much to the vexation of those who have to share my space. I was looking for one the other day on my bookshelf and came across my ratty copy of “The Magic Pudding”. Bought for me in 1983, in fact the date I got it was 20/10/83… I know because I wrote my name, address, and the date I got it inside the cover!
First published in 1918… “The Magic Pudding” is one of the many books I loved as a kid. What’s not to love. A sentient pudding, owned by three travellers, who never have to worry where their next meal is coming from because they have a magically regenerating pudding to feast on. If only they can avoid the scheming pudding thieves.
A lovely story, with poems by Norman Lindsay throughout, it’s still a joy to read.
” O, who would be a puddin’,
A puddin’ in a pot,
A puddin’ which is stood on,
A fire which is hot,
O sad indeed the lot,
Of puddin’s in a pot.
” I wouldn’t be a puddin’
If I could be a bird,
If I could be a wooden
Doll, I wouldn’t say a word.
Yes, I have often heard,
It’s grand to be a bird.
” But as I am a puddin’
A puddin’ in a pot,
I hope you get a stomachache
For eating’ me a lot.
I hope you get it hot,
You puddin’-eatin’ lot ! “
Over 100 years old now, I felt it was a timeless Australian story my now-New Zealand kin need for their kids’ bookshelf so I sent new a copy across the Straight. I hope they enjoy the story as much as I have.