The Blue Banana - the memory of a child

I think I have always loved books. As far back as I can remember, I have loved discovering the people and their stories hidden in the pages. I remember lying in bed with my mum when I was about four or five while she read to me. But I do have one earlier memory of me and a book, although I don't know if this is a true memory or one which has been suggested to me by what my mum has to say about the book. It is a memory of me sitting cross legged on the floor with the book open on my legs. I recited the story out loud and I turned the pages. And at some point all the adults were laughing all around me. I would have been two going on three. Is it even possible to remember that far back? Actually, now that I think of it, it is. Because I have a memory from my second birthday. But that is another story. 

Picture taken from www.worldcat.org

The book was the Blue Banana. And the story of me and the Blue Banana is this. The Blue Banana is a children's book written by Bronnie Cunningham from the 1970s. It was, according to my mum, my favourite book at the time. I don't doubt her though because I do remember loving the book. 

One day, we had a visitor at home, one of my parents' friends. And for what ever reason, I ended up with the book in front of me and was "reading" either to him and within his earshot. I believe the book opens with "Once upon a time there was a King who loved bananas." He was very impressed apparently that a child who was not yet three could read so well. That lasted only as long as it took for me to turn the page. Then, they caught on that my page turning was completely out of sync with the words on the page. Hence they discovered that I was reciting the story from memory! I don't know how accurate my recital was, I don't think anyone was paying that much attention. Whatever it was, I had obviously heard the story so many times that I knew it by heart. 

This ability to commit long passages to memory is one that has stuck with me through the years. I have, often in my life, for no particular reason other than because I could, memorised poems, soliloquies, speeches from films and whatever else. 

I am glad for my memory, although it is not always a blessing. And I am pleased to know that this habit or tendency or ability or whatever you want to call it manifested at such a young age. 

Since being recently reminded of this story, I have been searching for the book. It is apparently available in a three libraries in the UK; The British Library, the National Library of Scotland in Edinburgh (and I was JUST in Endinburgh!!!, and funnily enough, Falkirk Council Library. How I would love to get my hands on it!