One of my favourite books was – One Way Only by Gwen Grant. The narrator was a young girl living in a working class family shortly after the second world war. At the time this was one of the funniest books I owned. I read it repeatedly and would quote lines from it verbatim. How can you not love a book that starts with:
“Here I am again, July 1950, sat writing in this book in the whole one and a half inches of my bedroom. One and a half inches because I have to share it with the only two human worms in captivity – our Lucy and Rose”
Or classic one liners like “Blancmange means nothing to a mouse”
I am not sure about it influencing the person that I am now but it certainly started the writing bug.