When I was small, my Dad would read to me before bed. One night I asked if he would re-read The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe only to be told he’d had enough of ‘Jesus Lion.’ Instead, he brought out a book with a dragon raging above a burning town on its cover. It was called The Hobbit. I was easily enchanted with Bilbo’s journey – talking eagles, riddles in the dark, Smaug – and, best of all, there was more.