‘It’ is the Psammead, a gloriously grumpy sand fairy – and anything less fairylike in looks is hard to imagination, and all part of the great inclusive sweep of E. Nesbit’s arm as she draws you into her story – grants a wish a day. Each vanishes at sunset and each brings a whole heap of trouble to the children (and most of the adults who run into them).

E Nesbit’s reputation, and it is deserved, is of being on the child’s side, of not preaching and moralising, of understanding how you, the child, can cause mayhem, but with the best of intentions. And yet, with all the fun and little asides, now for child, now for adult, she is teaching in plain sight and bold as brass a huge lesson – ‘Be careful what you wish for, because you may get it’. Was ever a lesson more deftly taught?

It sat on my bookshelf as a child, my mother’s copy, quite fat, a dull red and a dull read too, I, newly into chapter books, suspected. Until one day I picked it up and began to read and, of course, I was hooked by the author’s friendly, engaging and witty style and the wonderful adventures she took me on.

No matter that I had never travelled down a dusty Kent road in a horse-drawn fly from the station, any more than you have. No matter that I had no idea that a fly could have four wheels rather than six legs, I had H R Millar’s classic illustrations to set me right. (By the way, I recommend the Virago edition linked to here, for it prints all his original illustrations.) The stories took me to a time of norfolk jackets and white pinafores, of cooks and housemaids, of penny buns and gold sovereigns, and they all added to the magic.