IT was the anthem of summer 2012. But it was more than that. It was the soundtrack to a coming of age, played on a loop at decibel levels not entirely sociable on a campsite. As Mumford And Sons intoned loudly “I will wait for you”, our 16-year-old son – never one to hasten himself – showered, gelled and scented himself while a gathering congregation of pals assembled to wait for him on the decking, chinking in accompaniment with the sound of illicit beer.

It was the innocence of youth mixed with the possibilities of impending maturity (although yet a long way off), the air thick with hormones and Lynx; the heady days of a hot French summer.

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Of course, all the parents knew about the beers on the beach and an appropriate eye was kept on consumption and behaviour, but no harm was done and bonds of friendship were made that may well last a lifetime.

When I hear that song it still transports me back to that campsite in France and those happy memories, even though he’s 23 and all grown up. Of course, I use that term loosely.

UNTIL last year, my book of the decade would be one of the many mostly debut novels that I consume voraciously, courtesy of charity book sales at work.

But everything changed last year. Returning to university for a postgraduate course, one of the first things that hit me was the sheer volume of literature I would have to read. Even just the core texts formed a foot-high pile.

I soon realised something would have to give to accommodate all those words. So began a self-imposed ban on fiction.

My book of the decade, then? Perhaps Avis, J., Fisher, R. and Thompson, R. Teaching in Lifelong Learning. Second ed. Maidenhead, United Kingdom: McGraw-Hill education/Open University Press; or Gregson, M. and Hillier, Y. (2015) Reflective Teaching in Further, Adult and Vocational Education. 4th ed. London: Bloomsbury (I so don’t miss referencing!).

But once the last essay was submitted and the fiction prohibition lifted, my craving to escape in a book soon returned. I was on holiday, I needed a page-turner, 2015’s Girl On A Train was the perfect antidote to nine months of text books.

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The novel by Paula Hawkins tells a first-person narrative from the perspective of three women whose lives become entwined through one man. No spoilers in case you haven’t read it, but one of the most engaging features of this book, apart from the clever twists of a tortuous plot, was its pace. You can hear the cadence of a train bowling along, contrasted by a change in pace as the story pulls into a siding for a pause for thought.

It was the book that reminded me – after all the compulsory reading – of how much I enjoy the freedoms of fiction.

OTHER than that of Shakespeare, I don’t think there’s any other work I’ve consumed in book, play and film form so much did I enjoy the original. It was so of its time, it was hard to imagine a follow-up to Trainspotting. But Danny Boyle pulled it off in style with Trainspotting 2.

In 2017 we find a post-heart-attack Renton returning to Edinburgh 20 years after stealing £16,000 in drug money and making a new life in Amsterdam. Ewan McGregor, Kelly Macdonald, Ewen Bremner, Jonny Lee Miller and Robert Carlyle reprise their roles and what seems like a rather huge ask pays off with an entertaining sequel which defies the sceptics. OK, the energy wasn’t quite as frenetic. They are, after all, a bunch of middle-aged, drug-ravaged Scots. And the humour isn’t quite as black. It’s not as radge as its predecessor, but T2 holds its own as a slightly more sensible, grown-up version of the original.

So, could T3 be in the pipeline in another 20 years? Word is the producers are eyeing the Still Game set and the cast will reconvene at a care home in Craiglang.