My father thought I’d grow out of it.<p>

But more than 50 years after he generously financed the purchase of my first big cricket library, seven boxes of hardback books from a Mr Gregory in Christchurch, I am just as compulsive and obsessive about collecting.

I have been hooked ever since Dad bought the 1965 Wisden for me one Christmas. Never has one book been so treasured.

Having seen me borrow all 18 of the Parkdale library’s cricket books, he asked if I’d like anything else. ‘No Dad,’ I said, ‘but thanks.’

On school holidays I’d go to town with him and spend my mornings hunting for books all over the CBD: downstairs for the remainders at the Collins Book Depot, upstairs in the second-hand section at Robertson & Mullins in Elizabeth St., Mr Evans and Fabian’s in Swanston and last stop, Berry’s in Flinders Lane where their welcoming pianola played old time favourites by the barrel.

Among the Collins’ remainders were RS ‘Dick’ Whitington’s Simpson’s Safari – the only full-length tour book on Australia’s tour of South Africa in 1966-67 – and hardback versions of the English Cricketer spring and winter annuals, one with the heavyweight Colin Milburn on the cover. Ollie was a particular favourite of mine as he spent several prolific winters in Perth, with Western Australia.

Ever since my early teens, the thrill of the hunt has taken me to the tiniest, out of the way towns, especially if they happen to have a specialist second-hand bookshop.

One Ashes touring year, on the way to Winston Churchill’s Chartwell, we stopped off at Oxted for morning tea. My radar was working. Directly across the road was a ye olde bookshop which was just opening. Excusing myself from our group as politely as possible, I almost sprinted across the road and with great relish, purchased just about every cricket book on the gentleman’s shelves. And there were some beauties. All reasonably priced.

Every UK expedition, we send back boxes of books, all carefully bubbled and secured. They trickle in for weeks after our return, every one a gem and a reminder of a particular village visited.

Hay-on-Wye has been a particular favourite. Every shop has books, even the local butcher.

This August, In Auckland, after three days of trans-Tasman cruising with P & O, the opportunity to briefly re-find our land legs was appealing, before we sailed for Fiji.  Guess how we spent our four free hours?  Maybe on the lift to Auckland’s ever-so-high Sky Tower? Or a visit to famed Eden Park? No. Susan and I jockeyed for pole position on the gangplank and were among the first off, racing to catch the 10.30am ferry to harbour town Devonport and its second-hand bookshop, the Bookmark.