Even if children have dyslexia, they can still enjoy reading just as much as everybody else, especially in the school holidays.

Some children are very receptive to books, some less so, but really that doesn’t matter. The bigger point is that everyone can enjoy books and enjoy reading, but we have to put the foundations in place for this to happen.

The summer is the perfect time to find a public library and visit it every week.

Take a bag with wheels or a strong backpack and carry home as many books as possible. I can remember loading a baby buggy with thirty books and then piling them high in my children’s bedroom. They’d loved taking a long time to choose the books in the library and were delighted to read them with me every single day until it was time to take them back, and begin the whole process again.

Part of the magic was that my children enjoyed having so much choice. They weren’t involved in food shopping, so choosing was special for them, a novelty. They would pick books because they were unusual in some way. There were weeks when all the books were extra large and from the 'outsize collection', or had orange covers (my toddler's favorite color), or were about tiny little creatures like ants or mice. If I suggested a chapter book (as I was desperate to read paragraphs to them at bedtime) they would admonish me.

“No Mummy. It’s our choice,” they said; their eyes said the rest.

So, we continued for a long time with picture books, full of enormous print and fabulous illustrations that enthralled them. They’d sit looking deeply into a single page arguing about what was happening. At that time, I was concerned. I thought we should be working our way through 'Charlotte’s Web' and 'James and the Giant Peach', but these two little ones were visually engrossed, mining every page for every shred of meaning. Now, looking back, I can see how very curious they were. The details that fascinated them mattered to their young minds in a way that I couldn't grasp.

Let’s fast forward about five years.

We’d moved far from our local library and lived a very different life. The summer holiday was a time for visiting friends, long car journeys. Above all, it was a chance to reconnect with my children after the busy term of teaching. Both were at primary school and had learned to read, but they were not interested in going to a different library. I decided try something new.

“We are going book shopping,” I said.

I needed to visit the Institute of Education in Central London, and they came with me on the train. There is an enormous flagship bookstore the corner of Gower Street, and in we went. I planted them in the children’s department and showed them where they could find each genre - the range was enormous, like nothing they'd encountered before. I wondered what would interest them. One had been diagnosed with dyslexia, though had always loved books. This meant that words moved on the page, as she tried to read, but her special glasses were helping.

They chose well known books with short chapters and quirky illustrations and witty humour, but most important to them were diaries. 'The Princess Diaries', by Sue Cabot and a of course, Sue Townsend's eight part series of 'Secret Diaries of Adrian Mole' were a constant source of spluttering laughter.

At the time I was perplexed. Why diaries? Obviously, they were relatable and very good fun, but I can see now that diaries were the perfect choice. The structure was clear, concise and linear - in a one day at a time kind of way; and of course packed with behind the scenes antics and mischief making. These books caused non stop giggles on the train back home and after that, in the back seat of the car as we motored to and fro, visiting friends and family.

“Have you got your books?” I’d ask, before we left the house, (but knowing they actually couldn't put them down).

Perhaps the format of these books, fairly large print, short blocks of text, and plenty of humor made all the difference. Being dyslexic didn't appear to be much of barrier to reading.

And then they grew up...

And as they became teenagers, I not only kept the tradition going, I pumped it up. Every school holiday (including half terms) began with book shopping. I set the limit at four books, with the guarantee that we’d come back as soon as they'd finished the first batch.

My main priority was to encourage them to choose books that they’d really enjoy. One day, I found them reading quietly in their bedrooms.

“Mummy, You would love this book. It’s so interesting,” she said.

My 13 year old was reading ‘Noughts and Crosses’ by Malorie Blackman. It was the first time she’d recommended a book to me and that summer, to my surprise, they both started swapping books with their friends.

Only one of my two children had instinctively loved books as a very young child, but they both developed a love of reading, which I was delighted to invest in as often as possible. Of course, they weren’t always reading. They would play with their friends and I remember one such play date at our house.

All the children were ‘hanging out’ upstairs and I could hear muffled sounds of laughter and talking. I decided to make a mug of tea, grab a couple of cushions, and curled up with a book in the corner of the sofa next to a lamp. After ten minutes, I felt a pair of eyes on me. I looked up and there they all were watching me - grinning. I thought nothing of it until the next day, when both children were arguing about who would read in that same corner of the sofa.

“Let them catch you reading,” might sound a little bit too strategic for the natural flow of family life, but I can promise you, it really works!