'World Book Day', 4th March



For a short CST activity on 'World Book Day', ask members what their favourite books and authors are. Perhaps later in the session, read introductory paragraphs from some of the books mentioned.



(Bear in mind that some people may have reduced reading and language skills, so avoid putting anyone in a position where this might be highlighted.)



List some famous books and authors in the categories of:


- Factual (Dictionary, Thesaurus, Atlas, Encyclopaedia etc)

- Religious (Bible, Old & New Testaments, Koran, Torah etc)

- Classics (Shakespeare, Dickens, Austen, Brontes etc)

- Sci Fi (JR Tolkien, Isaac Asimov, Arthur C Clarke, HG Wells, John Wyndham etc)

- Horror (Bram Stoker, Mary Shelley, Steven King etc)

- Romance (Margaret Mitchell, Barbara Cartland, Helen Fielding etc)

- Children's (Lewis Carroll, Beatrice Potter, Roald Dahl, JK Rowling etc)



The theme for this year's 'World Book Day' is 'Share A Story', so ask members if they have a story to tell about their life - something meaningful to them about a life event or achievement, something funny that happened to them, or a fact that not many people know about them.



Play some songs about books:


- 'Wuthering Heights', by Kate Bush

- 'Bright Eyes', by Art Garfunkel

- 'May It Be', Enya

- 'Into The West', Annie Lennox

- 'Diary', by Bread

- 'Paperback Writer', by The Beatles

- 'Every Day I Write The Book', Elvis Costello



To finish the session, whilst having a cup of tea and biscuits, maybe read out a poem or two that members may be familiar with (see below).


'If', by Rudyard Kipling




If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream—and not make dreams your master; If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!




'Sonnet 18', by William Shakespeare



Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimm’d;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;

Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st;

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.



'I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud', by William Wordsworth




I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.





Members may also have a favourite poem to read, so check that out.





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