WHAT a surprise to discover Enid Blyton was voted Britain’s best loved author in a poll of adults. Roald Dahl came second and J K Rowling third.

I had to look twice to make sure this wasn’t a vote by youngsters for the best children’s author. No, this was mature men and women picking the writers they had enjoyed most.

Forget James Bond or Emmanuelle. Grown ups preferred fairy stories and the girls of Malory Towers.

Perhaps it was nostalgia, perhaps a tip of the hat to an innocent past, but all of a sudden, Enid Blyton has become respectable.

When I was nobbut a lad and practising my archery in case the Normans invaded (whoops, sorry Harold), school friends looked down their noses at Blyton.

There I was, 11 years old with the nickname Killer and supposed to enjoy being kicked up into the air on the rugby field, and I was smuggling The Secret Seven in my satchel and looking for a quiet spot on the train going home to read it without being found out.

Oh the ignominy of discovery. It would have been viewed as a perversion.

Eventually I kicked the habit but only to move onto Arthur Ransome and Swallows And Amazons.

But Blyton, who died in 1968, is now officially top of the pops and we can all come out of the closet. What a change around after years of being politically incorrect. Well, the books were written a long time ago and reflected the mores of the day. New editions have been deftly altered so as not to cause offence.

Both my daughters grew up with Blyton. Perhaps it was the simplicity of the language, but they devoured them from the age of five, moved on to more challenging authors and are committed readers still. Sian, our younger daughter, had started reading Martin Amis by the time she was 13.

Blyton is a phenomenon. She has been translated into 90 languages, is the sixth most popular writer worldwide according to UNESCO and almost equal to Shakespeare, and has sold 600 million copies.

Surprisingly, she faced criticism even in her own lifetime. This did not worry her and she is reported to have said she was not interested in the views of critics aged over 12.

It’s nice to know that all those under 12s have grown up with such fond memories of her books of childhood adventure and fairyland.