Enid Blyton was one of my favourite authors when when I was a very small boy, Hollow Tree House being my favoured bedtime reading for a while when I was down.
Living in a hollowed out log, depending upon the charity of
some posh kids for something to eat.
Life isn't so bad after all, my seven year old self used to say to himself, sigh contentedly, give my goll-err...teddy bear a hug and go to sleep.
The thought of Auntie Enid being a racist snob, just nonsense of course...