Ah, Enid Blyton. So many memories of faraway lands on top of trees, slippery slips, Saucepan men, moonfaces, chairs with wings on their legs, secret and famous kid detectives, find-outers, naughty girls, unpolitically-correct toys, and talking rabbits and other assorted animals with Brer in their name.
I used to have so many of them. Now, this is all I have. Sigh....
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