‘Quest for a Kelpie’ by Frances Hendry.
I first read it when I was but a wee tyke at school…or rather it was read to us by our teacher. Even though I didn’t know the meaning of the word back then it resonated within me to the point I was drawn to the local library where I checked it out myself and re-read it several times.
For years I craved to read it again. Ten years from when I’d first read it I ranaway to Scotland (the events weren’t connected) and after one somewhat un-nerving night found myself in a charity shop in Stirling. Caked in dust in the middle of the bookshelf was the book I’d been dreaming about all these years, and for only 50p.
I read half the book on the train to Edinburgh and the other sitting in the shadow of the castle.
That raggedy, dog eared copy remained with me for the next ten years. Every country I went to, every journey I made, every mode of transportation. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read it now!
Alas, with life the way it is these days, I have no idea where that book may be now. I’m hoping it was found by a lovely soul who cherished it as much as I did.
If you were to say that title to most they’ll look at you with a blank face. Say it to me – and it invokes memories and emotion unlike any book I’ve read before or since, most likely ever will.