The Hungry Caterpillar (Eric Carle)

Mention this book to almost anybody, and their eyes willalmost immediately mist over with fond nostalgia. The children’s picture book with lush illustrations and a pleasingly simple narrative was written by Eric Carle and published in 1969. It has to date sold 30 million copies, which isn’t shabby for a book with only 224 words and acts essentially as an inventory of everything a brightly-coloured caterpillar munches through before it becomes a butterfly (it begins to feel a little queasy by the time it hits the salami and the cupcake). Since its publication, the caterpillar protagonist has featured on everything from the Google header to the BBC Big Read, a 2003 poll to find out Britain’s most beloved books. It placed 199 – not bad for a picture book recommended for ages two and above.

Daddy-Long-Legs (Jean Webster)

Admittedly, I first read Daddy-Long-Legs at the age of 18, but that’s why I’m convinced it’s so wonderful. This 1912 novel about orphan Jerusha "Judy" Abbott’s years in college at the expense of an anonymous benefactor is heart-warming enough to revive the inner child of even the most disillusioned university student. Our spirited heroine has more charm than a Mark Twain character, the illustrations all the deliciousness of stick-figure simplicity, the style the ease that comes with epistolary excellence. This is a children’s book for adults, a hot water bottle for the soul.

The Magician’s Nephew (C. S. Lewis)

Before there was the Wardrobe, there was the Wood Between the Worlds. Chronologically first, C. S. Lewis’ oft-overlooked adventure lays the foundations for all that Narnia business to come. Quaintly-named Londoners Digory and Polly journey through a succession of suburban attics to an inter-dimensional forest, finally chancing upon Narnia in its dreamy, allegorical Genesis. We see the foundations of the wardrobe, the first dealings with Lewis’ fictional world (courtesy of creepy inventor Uncle Andrew), and, best of all, arch-villainess Jadis makes her fiery debut, unhinged and awe-inspiring as she tears apart London streets. The Magician’s Nephew is a Boy’s Own adventure with a philosophical subtext, subtler and stranger than any of the Prince Caspian crusades.

Eloise (Kay Thompson)

For the Plaza’s most famous six-year-old resident, Eloise, getting bored was simply never allowed. Whether in Paris, Moscow or New York, this precocious young lady, who "Queen Victoria would have seen as an equal", and "Henry James would have wanted to study" always knew how to hold her own. With her comrades Weeny, Skibadee and Nanny, she imparted "rawther" useful pearls of wisdom to little girls worldwide. Naughtiness was her currency for succeeding in life, and anything could be achieved when a Kleenex box was used as a hat. Not yet pretty, but already a person, Eloise reigns as my literary heroine, even today.

The Faraway Tree (Enid Blyton)

A tree that, if you climb it, leads to a magical world? I’m sure most Cambridge students wouldn’t mind one of those. Enid Blyton’s The Faraway Tree was a staple of my childhood because it had EVERYTHING. Fairies, men with saucepans on their heads, pop cakes filled with honey and the most incredible slide ever created – the slippery slip. And of course there was the thrill of wondering whether the world at the top would let you wish for a special birthday surprise, or produce a slap-happy school teacher... The ultimate escapism, my imagination wouldn’t have been the same without it.

Just William (Richmal Crompton)

The Just William series of books is set in middle class Britain, around World War II, and focuses on the antics of 11-year-old William Brown. Each chapter is a new prank/ money-making scheme/ game/ a hilarious misinterpretation of something an adult has said, which inevitably ends with irate grown-ups and often a shilling or two in William’s pocket. These books are populated by unforgettably colourful characters and they send up middle class Britain wonderfully through the child-like, but by no means innocent, perspective of William. These were the books that I loved to have read to me as a child and still enjoy reading now.

Alice In Wonderland (Lewis Carroll)

When I was younger, I believed I was Alice. Albeit fanatical, who else would have her tattooed on them? I could comprehend her startled expressions when falling down the rabbit hole, into a schizophrenic mad universe where nothing made sense. I understood how distressed she must have been when confronted with mind meddling rhymes and arrogant characters. After all, I did go to school where the characters were cruel pupils and I couldn’t understand the equations.

Who could not fall for the first nonsensical children’s classic? With elements of logic problems, puns and escapism, it’s a must for every generation.

The Twits (Roald Dahl)

The Twits always reminded me of my parents. Not because of the humorous domestic abuse I hasten to add, but rather, having re-read Roald Dahl’s mischievous tale so often, the Twits felt almost like close relatives.

This wasn’t the only reason we related, though. As a fairly naughty child, I found their antics and impish one-upmanship almost inspirational. Like few other children’s books, The Twits purposefully and brilliantly subverts the tiresome warning of the parent: ‘Don’t give them ideas’. I loved, and often recreated, the worm spaghetti and the shrinking stick, and it became my handbook to getting my own back on annoying parents.