It might be a shock to fellow millennials, but I have an embarrassing confession to make. I, Jessica Phillips have never read the Harry Potter books.... until now! To be perfectly honest, I don't know how I missed the Hogwarts Express which would have transported me into the wizarding world of Harry Potter at least a decade ago. I've always had my head tucked in one book or another, but I somehow managed to jump from The Glitter Girls straight to Harper Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird without coming across a single broomstick, owl, chocolate frog or invisibility cloak.
One of the reasons which could explain my late arrival to the magical universe is the fact that on a school trip to watch Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, I was gripped with fear when the boy with the statement piece glasses and lightening shaped scar came face to face with his arch nemesis. Whilst my classmates left the screening with imaginations full of trolls, spells and magic wands, I left with a prescription for a week's worth of nightmares. It's safe to say that my delicate constitution was not looking particularly well-equipped to deal with the terror and turmoil which was to ensue as Harry navigated his way through life at Hogwarts.
Now at 21, I am finally getting around to joining the illustrious Harry Potter fan club. I can honestly say that I'm glad I waited to experience these books for the first time as an adult. Having waved goodbye to childhood a good few years back, there's something heart-warming and nostalgic about seeing the world through a child's eyes and embarking on the juvenile adventures of three best friends. As we all grow up, we're all guilty of falling prey to the pressures of modern life. We're slaves to the ticking clock, we let stress dominate our daily lives and feel like we've been shoved onto the treadmill of life without an users manual, unable to get off without falling flat on our faces.
What these magical books provide, is not only light relief and amusement, but an escapism from the drudgery and tedium of modern life, and a chance to travel into a world without limits, and for me, a youthful mindfulness which I thought I had lost. Reading J K Rowling's tales remind me of what it used to feel like to fly when I fell asleep and encourages me to believe in the impossible again.
There's somewhat of a timeless appeal to these novels which enchants and educates readers of all ages. Whether you're starting school or picking up your pension, you'll laugh at the absurdity of the Dursley's, remember the Hermione Granger of your class and dream of what it would be like to cast your first spell. As an 11 year old, you think that your carefree existence filled with games of make believe will last forever. Reading these adventures now remind me of how important imagination can be and provides a release at the end of a long day of living in the muggle world.
These tales have injected the right amount of magic back into my almost-adult life and take me back to the days when I would pretend to be a spy or hide in my airing cupboard, thinking it would transport me to the Other Realm. Although I no longer secretly practice my James Bond skills, or believe that my airing cupboard has any other purpose bar drying clothes, reading these magical tales are reminding me that I was most happy when I was drawing treasure maps, casting spells and catching bad guys. I was most me when I let my imagination run free, and didn't stress all that much about ticking clocks and treadmills.
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