When I was a little girl, we had this thing called a Storyteller tape.
It was a fortnightly collectable magazine containing serialised children’s stories, and an accompanying cassette tape. Designed to encourage a love of reading, the idea was that you would play the cassette and read along with the magazine, with a bell sounding when it was time to turn the page.
I fell in love with Storyteller, eagerly awaiting each new issue’s arrival at our local newsagents. The illustrations were bright and engaging, but most of all I loved those cassettes. Narrated by master storytellers such as Nigel Lambert and Joanne Lumley, each tape conjured pictures and scenes more vivid in my mind that on the printed page. In fact, I was so convinced that they were speaking to me personally, I believed tiny people lived inside each cassette, waiting on little chairs at microphones for me press play so they could recount the latest installment of Aldo’s Adventures in Arcadia… for the hundredth time.
My love of words and evocative imagery underpins my approach to narration. My vividness and precision, coupled with the warmth and sensitivity for which I’m known are designed to transport my listener into the world of the story, honouring the writer’s work and striving to recreate that same magic I experienced as a child.