EVERY day I open my online papers to see what fresh hell has been visited upon us as this world spins further into madness – a whirling top of pompous opinion and correct thinking.

At least there’s been no new gender - or is it sex? - added today. Nobody being cancelled for freedom of speech or fired for an ill-judged remark. Mind you, it’s still early so give it time.

No, today, not for the first time, it’s Enid Blyton’s turn. Perhaps only those of a certain age will remember the joy of a new Blyton book – for me The Famous Five.

But now English Heritage have updated their blue plaques and stated: "Blyton's work has been criticised during her lifetime and after for its racism, xenophobia and lack of literary merit. In 2016, Blyton was rejected by the Royal Mint for commemoration on a 50p coin because, the advisory committee minutes record, she was 'a racist, sexist, homophobe and not a very well-regarded writer'."

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But it adds: "Others have argued that while these charges can't be dismissed, her work still played a vital role in encouraging a generation of children to read."

Damn right it did. A world of adventure, saving the day, ginger beer and sandwiches packed by a housekeeper; lifetime friendships; loyal dogs.

As children we heard the story, not searching for racism or xenophobia. We didn’t even know the words; they were not part of our lexicon. In her books, children could become heroes; learn to be fearless; learn the value of friendship.

The stories themselves have long gone from my mind although there’s a shelf in my bookcases filled with the familiar brightly coloured dust jackets – the children running across them.

I already lived in a house of fine books but these were mine. They spoke to me in my language and each new one fired me with shivery anticipation of what was to come. Children then aspired to be noble and brave; to seek out truth and hope for better things without jealousy or spite.

They were books that lifted one out of one’s often boring life and took one away on a magic carpet of imagination. What greater gift can one give a child than the introduction to a lifetime of pleasure in the written word?

In 2014, Ms Blyton's Famous Five novels remained the books most favoured by parents for their children, according to a poll, beating JK Rowling's Harry Potter series.

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Her books have sold 600 milllion copies and have been translated into 90 languages. Her work is still popular, and she is number 11 in the top 20 best bestselling children's writers of last ten years – despite her death in 1968.

It’s time we stop searching for perceived evil in everything and simply seek out the good. By all accounts Blyton wasn’t a particularly nice woman. I don’t care. She had a way of entering a child’s dreams and hopes and we responded. She gave us entry into that world of dreams and, yes, hope came with it.

It’s tragic that everything is now scrutinised for bias or isms. Yes, ban the outrageous, outright racial hatred, but temper it with intelligence and personal responsibility, surely? We cannot erase our past but we can explain it in context.

We are being infantilised and our minds made up for us in a grotesque parody of righteousness.

Meanwhile, our politicians lie and cheat with no redress; our cruelties to animals and the environment go unpunished and, more and more, those in a position to speak out are too frightened for fear of censure.

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Soon our breasts will be festooned with badges to show we’re right on. What a dismal thought.

I sometimes wonder if this all began because we can no longer apparently control the vital things – pandemics, wars, religious strife. So, we look for the soft options aided by the over-indulged in our universities and media.

I’d love to be around in 20 years or so to see where this has taken us – when true heroes and philosophers have been eradicated. Not a ‘nice’ place I suspect.

And children’s books? He, she, them, binary, non-binary, self-identifying morons….dear God, the magic all gone. The magic carpet pulled away.

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