I have always been a book worm. Ever since I learned to read I carried a book with me everywhere I went. Mum sewed me a pretty library bag so that I could borrow books from the school library. I wish I could remember all those early books but they are buried somewhere deep in my memory dump. One book that stuck in my memory, though, was The Cow Who Fell in the Canal. I don’t know why I remember this book. All I know is that it was a library book and the picture story was about a cow who was bored with life and wandered onto a barge and floated down the middle of the canal (it was set in Holland, by the way). She then floated through fields of tulips and past other cows until she ended up in the city. Maybe it was the idea of adventure that appealed to my five-year old mind, or maybe it was the rhyme of cow/canal. Amazingly, thanks to the powers of the internet, I have been able to track the book down after all these years and find that it wasn’t just my imagination. There really was a cow who fell in the canal! Along with that cow, my adventures in reading (and later writing) began at that very moment. Thank you Phyllis Krasilovsky wherever you are.