Summer is over. Sob. It’s my favourite season, even when, as has just happened, the temperature gets to 40ºC (104ºF) for a few days.
I haven’t provided any news of myself for three months. In a world of minute-by-minute tweets this must be a world record for reticence. But why should anyone be interested in my luscious figs? Or the fact that I’m about to turn 69? Or that Theo started school in late January? Who is he to anyone but those in our little family? Or that fact that Chloe is now a teacher of French again, in a high school, after a nine-year break? It matters to me, obviously and massively, that my nearest and dearest are wildly happy, but honestly I can’t see why anyone else could care less!
However, I do have some writing news that might be of passing interest. In the last three months I’ve written three picture books, all of which have been accepted already by various publishers, and we even have an illustrator for one of them: the inimitable Judy Horacek of Where Is The Green Sheep? fame. As you can imagine, if I were a six year old, I’d be running round the house leaping to the ceiling and yelling my head off. I haven’t written three books in three months in all my time as a writer, going right back to 1983. And one of these books, I’m confidently predicting, will be up there with Possum Magic and Green Sheep. I wrote it fast, out of a deep passion for a certain subject. Sorry to be so cryptic, but it’s early days yet. I’ll come back to this post in three years’ time to see if I was right.
But I promise to be in touch before then!
All the best,