Today I’m talking about my favourite author, Roald Dahl.

My most vivid memory of his work is a book, or rather a booklet, called Roald Dahl’s Guide to Railway Safety.

How I acquired it, I’ve no idea. But it was exactly what it sounds like. A railway safety guide written by the master of dark children’s literature himself and illustrated by Quentin Blake.

There’s one image that’s stayed with me for decades. A warning about putting your head out of a train window, paired with a Blake illustration of a boy’s head popping clean off.

I loved that Roald didn’t dress things up. If you were considering doing something as foolish as sticking your head out of a train window, he made it very clear why that was a bad idea.

Like many kids, I worked my way through the big bumper collection. George’s Marvellous Medicine taught me the joy of mixing potions in the bathroom sink. Milk, toothpaste, body wash, aftershave.

I learned that grandparents aren’t always sweet, people aren’t always kind, creativity matters, and that four grandparents sharing two beds is a terrible idea.

Beyond the books, Roald was a WWII pilot, a spy, and married Oscar-winning actress Patricia Neal.

While pregnant with their daughter Lucy, Patricia had three massive strokes. As she recovered, Lucy and Patricia learned to walk together.

Patricia experienced aphasia. Her thoughts were clear, but her words came out scrambled and strange. Instead of “You drive me crazy”, she might say, “You jake my diagles.”

Those muddled, near musical phrases fascinated Roald. They became the inspiration for Gobblefunk, the unusual language spoken by the BFG.

“What I mean and what I say is two different things,” the BFG says. And that line exists because of Patricia.

When their baby son Theo was struck by a car while out in his pram, he developed encephalitis. To help him Roald helped invent the Wade-Dahl-Till valve, a cerebral shunt that went on to save thousands of children’s lives. He never took a penny for it.

That’s why I love Roald Dahl. Not just for the stories, but for the humanity behind them.

Sharing these stories with my daughter for the first time meant everything to me.