What books did your parents read to you?

I really don’t remember, only remember reading books myself.
It’s a long time ago isn’t it?

I can't remember either of my parents reading to me. I could read before I went to school, so all my memories are of me reading by myself.

I honestly can't actually remember my parents ever reading books to me.
If they did, I must have been under 4 years of age. They did buy me books though - I can remember looking at the pictures - ,and I could certainly read OK from the age of five. Books have always been an important part of my life

Neither of my parents ever read to me. I was taken to the village library where the children’s section consisted of a small, rather musty cupboard. Fortunately I had an aunt who plied me with books.

teabagwoman

Neither of my parents ever read to me. I was taken to the village library where the children’s section consisted of a small, rather musty cupboard. Fortunately I had an aunt who plied me with books.

Small musty cupboard 😂

I don’t remember my parents reading to me, but I loved the mobile library that visited my village.
Do mobile libraries still exist 🤷🏻‍♀️?

I have precious memories of my lovely Mum reading to me, from a beautifully illustrated children's edition of Little Women, at bedtime. After she had tucked me in and turned the light off, I would lie at the bottom of my bed, look at the pictures and try to sound out the words that came next by the light from the street lamp outside the window. I was probably about six. Our Dad took us to the local library every Saturday to exchange our books, on our way to visit his Mum, our Nanna.

The library is still in use but I believe the mobile buses have been withdrawn.

Definitely more poems than stories. My dad read AA Milne to us, he was a small child himself when they first came out. I can still recite all the poems off by heart. We moved on to Spike Milligan - Silly Verse for Kids, poems which are also stuck in my mind., then on to more grown up ones - John Gilpin is one I remember.

My father read the Just So stories to me. My mother read Black Beauty (sob).

My father used to invent stories for us, all about Georgie Pig and his family which was very like our own! My older sisters used to sit outside the bedroom door to listen in.

I have fond memories of my Mum reading to me. Books were my main entertainment during the winters after WW2.
The Alison Uttley books with Little Grey Rabbit and Fuzzypeg, the hedgehog were favourites of mine. Ladybird books, Enid Blyton and once I could read for myself the Noddy books.

Same here - no recollection of ever being read to by my parents. My Mum read to my children though as there were so many books around in our house that they used to poke them in anyone's face and ask to be read to. They usually picked the jolly cartoon book about the facts of life - poor Mum!

I honestly can’t remember my parents reading to me but I am sure my Mum would have done when I was a toddler. I do remember an Auntie who came to stay with us for a while sitting with me by the fire and we read together. I was about 6 and we read a child’s version of Oliver Twist.

My parents encouraged us to read though and bought us loads of books at Jumble Sales which were like new.

Oh yes Little Grey Rabbit. I’d forgotten that! My lovely Mum used to read me a bedtime story. I remember Winnie the Pooh.

I liked Rupert Bear but Mum hated it and only read the rhyming bits not the full story. She read it really fast to get it over with as quickly as possible!

I remember my father reading Snow White to me. He read other books as well but I can barely remember them although I think Bre’er Rabbit was one. The racist undertones wouldn’t have been significant in the early fifties. I believe they were just popular books for children.

My mum must have read to us though I don't remember what. She sang to us and recited poems which I've never forgotten.

My big sister was a prolific and good reader. We shared a bedroom and she would read to me. She read the whole of the Lord of the Rings to me when I was about 11. Tales of Arthur and his knights. Poems of Byron and Tennyson. Swallows and Amazons. Lots of books.
I was a lazy reader as a result but love listening.

I read to my own DC as did DH and my DC read to theirs.

I remember getting books at xmas but I read them myself, I dn't remember if my parents read books to me

My mother used to make up stories to tell us at bedtime. I can still remember the sheer feeling of being loved that I got listening to her.

My mother loved reading to us and was very expressive, putting on different voices for different characters. She read us all the Narnia books, Just So stories, the Jungle Book, The Sword in the Stone and probably more that I’ve forgotten.

I think the fact that we had no TV helped our enjoyment. Dramatisation of children’s books on the radio were excellent, too, and introduced us to many books which we later read ourselves and enjoyed.

ViceVersa

I can't remember either of my parents reading to me. I could read before I went to school, so all my memories are of me reading by myself.

My parents read to me at bedtime, long after I could read fluently myself. We did the same with our children. The bedtime story was a special time, part of the routine of winding down the day and preparing to fall asleep.

None. It makes me realise how different some of our childhoods were when I read posts like this. Some of you were very lucky.

We never had books at home apart books ‘Readers’ from school. Our parents didn’t read to us any time I was a good early reader and I read stories to my younger sister and brothers.

Every night. AA Milne, Wind in the Willows, The Family from One End Street, My Naughty Little Sister, Just William, Charlotte's Web...and on to Narnia, and then PG Wodehouse.
Mum mostly, but Dad when we were on holiday in the caravan.
Happy memories.

I can never remember my parents reading any books to me. I was just in the way and was left to amuse myself. I taught myself to read.

It was my grandmother who took an interest in me and we often read books together when I was a small child. She bought an early reader called "Where the wild things are" when I was four to see if I could read it. I managed most of it
and just needed help on some of the bigger words. I remember that book very well, The storry of a little boy who had a nightmare and meets all kinds of fierce creatures while wandering in the forrest.

When I was older my nan (as I called her) read me books like "Little Women" and "Great Expectations". She liked books with a strong moral flavour. As I grew older I began to read to her. I liked "The Count of Monte Cristo" because of the stronge vengence theme.

My nan lived into her 90s and in later life I enjoyed reading to her as her eyesight declined.