When you live in a residential community there is plenty of encouragement to be up to date about any number of contemporary events and news. Since my last column for example, Posh and Becks have produced a third child, Cruz and Arsenal have fielded a squad that included not a single player from the British Isles. Scooby Dos– no, not the cartoon dog - are all the rage (I am the official “starter” of them in our family) and have already achieved the status of banned games at local schools; the reason people were willing to risk life and limb at the infamous opening of the Edmonton IKEA a few days ago was because “you can’t refuse when there are three piece suites for £30”, and so on.

Among the recommendations I received in recent days were two concerning literary matters. First I was asked whether I had read Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code. There was a gasp of astonishment when I confessed that I had not, followed by a piercing glance which communicated: “and-you-give-the-impression-of-someone-who-is-reasonably-well-read-so-how-come-you-haven’t-caught-up-with-what-everyone-else-is-reading?”

This explains why I have packed the book among other papers and reading material as I set off tomorrow to do some lecturing in North Wales. Quite frankly I daren’t come back without having read it.

I assume, dear reader, that you have done the required reading of this tome too! If so, do feel free to let us know your thoughts on Opus Dei as an organisation and whether the appointment of an active Opus Dei member, Ruth Kelly as the Secretary of State for Education and Skills, raises any issues for you. In case you wondered how I happen to know that there was is any reference to Opus Dei in the novel without having read it, I can put your mind at rest: this was one of the key elements of the content that I was told constituted a sufficient reason for me reading it.

The other invitation was to visit the National Theatre in order to watch both parts of the stage setting of Philip Pullman’s trilogy His Dark Materials. I was on rather safer ground in this case because I had read the three novels, Northern Lights, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass, thanks to the tip from a friendly bookseller in Porthmadog who is another person devoted to keeping me abreast of literary developments.

The problem was of course that although I can usually manage to afford paperback novels, going to London theatres is for people in a different league (for the record I do not qualify for concessionary tickets under any currently available category). The two performances would have set me back £75, and anyway they had been sold out for months.

Imagine my joy when an academic colleague and friend over from the USA invited me to join her family for performances of His Dark Materials having purchased the tickets in September 2004! To cut a long story short, I accepted her timely offer and went. Those who have seen the play will know that Pullman’s extraordinary feat of imagination has been remarkably transferred to stage using just about every feature of the wonderfully spacious and lavishly equipped Olivier Auditorium. It was a full house and children formed at least half the audience by my reckoning.

Since reading the novels I had been wondering what children made of Pullman’s transparently atheist and anti-church theme or message. Here was a naked riposte to C.S. Lewis’ seven well-loved novels in the Narnia series, and a series of worlds where it might not always be winter, but there was certainly never Christmas! Part of the answer was that the children like me were caught up in such a great imaginative and creative feat with brilliant concepts such as “daemons”, “Dust”, and parallel universes, and carried along by a narrative that never seemed to tire. It was thoroughly enjoyable theatre, as the novels had been hugely enjoyable works of fiction.

And so I haven’t been able to glean much if anything about what impact the books and play have had on children’s belief systems and worldviews. If you have any thoughts or information on this I would be pleased to hear from you. One writer commented: “In the National Theatre production…the church leaders were set up as pantomime villains, costumed in severe purple cassocks. The audience didn’t quite boo and hiss, but they could have and it wouldn’t have been out of place.” (Hugh Rayment-Pickard, The Devil’s Account: Philip Pullman and Christianity, DLT, 2004, page 91)

Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury has twice engaged in conversations with Philip Pullman, and has suggested that the books should be part of the school curriculum, and he has a good point. I am now looking for young people with whom I can discuss their reactions to and feelings about His Dark Materials.

You may have gathered that I am just as interested in this as I am in such things as baby Cruz, Arsenal and Scooby Dos: there’s a lot to be said for a variety of informants and ideas. Which is one of the many reasons why I enjoy living in a residential community, and am happy to write a monthly column called In Residence.

Earlier today I chaired a meeting addressed by someone from the Audit Commission about the performance and effectiveness of Children’s Trusts in England. The whole discourse seemed to take place in a parallel universe from the one in which we live. How fortunate that I can leave to others the world of inspections, evaluation and monitoring, and am led as I listen to children to enter such fascinating territories.