Travers’ Mary Poppins is a wonderful contradiction – her severe appearance (shiny black hair, thin with large feet and peering blue eyes) and terse responses belie the magic that she has running through her veins. I didn’t discover the ‘real’ Mary Poppins until I was in my teens, which meant that I was the perfect age to really appreciate the vain, snarky, half-wild creature she is in her literary incarnation. I watched the Disney musical religiously, and was infatuated (and impressionable!) enough to write my own letter to Mary Poppins and deposit it in the fireplace.
Like a lot of kids, my first experience of Mary Poppins was of the spit-spot, spoonful-of-sugar,supercalifragilisticexpialidocious variety.
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