Enid Blyton is dead not only in a literary professor’s head. She’s more like a Monty Python Norwegian blue parrot kind of dead, deceased, late, no more. She died in 1968, and I suspect hasn’t written anything since. How then can she be releasing books as recently as 2009?
Read MoreAlthough I know it does me no good, I sat for four days last month and watched the leader of the Church in Australia, Cardinal Pell, explain what he did and mostly didn't do to respond to children abused on his watch.
Read MoreIn fairness to those who do hit their children, or those who’d like to defend their right to do so, I will be the first to admit I fail as a disciplinarian.
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