When I was about seven, I was quite obsessed with dinosaurs. Why was this the case? I remember making a conscious decision to be so. The word 'dinosaur', after all, begins with a D. Moreover, my first name begins with a D. Therefore, it was entirely logical that I should be obsessed with dinosaurs.
OK, so maybe logic wasn't my strong point. Give me a break, I was seven. Not many seven-year-olds want to be palaeontologists when they grow up.
Anyway, this is relevant, for at about this time, some trailers started appearing between programs on the BBC - you know in the days before iPlayer, or even digital, when you had to watch things like that. Some of these trailers featured dinosaurs, and, naturally, my attention was piqued. The world seemed to be capitulating to my dearest wish: Walking with Dinosaurs, a quite special documentary (drama?) about dinosaurs.
And then the series came out. The CGI was breathtaking, the music was epic. Not that I understood much of this at the time: I just liked the dinosaurs. But with the help of my family, I recorded the entire series on to VHS, and watched them over and over again. I still enjoy them and get something new out of them every time.
But this is meant to be a book review. Bear with me.
A few months after the series came out I was with my father in our nearest town's bookshop, and there, mounted with pride of place, bestriding the mere novels and trash beneath it, in view immediately past the entrance was this hardback colossus, complete with those giant, peaceful diplodoci and that magical word guaranteed to have my (by then) eight-year-old neck spinning on my shoulders: Dinosaurs. Walking with them, no less.
Naturally I inspected. My heart fell at the price tag: £49.99, far outside the bounds of my usual pocket money.
Fortunately for me, I had a loving and generous (but now sadly deceased) grandmother, who bought it for me. When I got it, I was hooked on it almost instantly: so much detail, so much information, so many potential hours of reading! Those beautiful pictures! Those... oh, I can't remember now.
Do I come across as a little nostalgic? I sometimes wish I could still retain that childish devotion to the cause. I am naturally inclined to be obsessive, but the more I have learnt, the more I realise how little I know, and these days I try to be obsessed with everything at once, which has a somewhat tragic diluting effect.
But when I look back, after many years, I am and always will be glad of the colour of this book decorating my shelf. It is a testament to the monumental human effort that went into it: the quantity, both broad and deep of scientific discovery behind it and the extraordinary achievement of the TV series' production team. I hope I have contributed something to saluting them.