Fibro Q&A: Words and pictures - how to write a children's book

Children's book author and illustrator Peter Carnavas may be the first person to visit the Fibro (for Q&A purposes) whom I've never actually met. Everyone else has been a friend or acquaintance, either IRL (in real life) or URL (via blogs or Twitter). In fact, I wasn't even familiar with his work. But his very engaging publicist Sophia from New Frontier Publishing emailed me and asked if I'd be interested in reviewing Peter's new Little Treasures collection - four little books for little people.

Nope, said I, I'm not really about a review. But I did a little bit of further research, fell in love with Peter's whimsical illustration style, and realised that I had a few questions for an author who put big issues into children's books.

The four titles in his collection cover love, family, the environment and self-worth. Sarah must carry her heavy heart around with her. Jessica tries to make friends. Christopher's father is absent. And there is one about the last tree in the city. I'd tell you more about that one, but Mr4 has taken a liking to it and I can't find it. I asked him whether he liked the books that Mr Carnavas had sent him. "Yes," he said. "I do." "Why?" I asked, looking for pithy words of wisdom for a review. "There's one about a tree," he said. "I like trees."

And, really, what better review of a children's book?

So here he is. All the way from the Sunshine Coast where, I discovered, he lives in a Fibro! (How could I not love him?)

You take on some 'big' issues in your little books. Why do you choose to tackle those, rather than simply writing a story to entertain?
Peter Carnavas: "I don't always mean to tackle big issues, but they are the sort of stories I end up writing. I think it is because I need to feel some sort of emotional connection to a story to pursue writing it. That doesn't mean the story has to be emotional itself, but I just like the idea of readers being able to delve into themes a little, to have layers of meaning working throughout the story. Of course, I love simple, fun stories as well - Quentin Blake is probably my biggest hero and his books are usually pure fun."

What are some of the things you have to think about when working your material into a book suitable for children?
PC: "Most of my ideas have a grown-up origin, such as a conversation I've had or a newspaper article I've read, so there is a bit of a process for me to fashion it into a children's story. It becomes easier when I start working on the illustrations, for no matter what the theme, my pictures are usually quite light and fanciful. This helps a lot.

"There are other little techniques I use to help the story appeal to children, such as the silent animal friends popping up on every page, or adding funny little things in the background. It's also important to cut out unnecessary words. I like to keep the text short and to the point."

When you write your books, do you begin with words or pictures?
PC: "I start with the idea then, after thinking about it for days, weeks or months, I write the text. I like to write the whole story in one sitting - once I've started it, I can't go to bed until it's done. I then start playing around with pictures, usually working out what the characters will look like, what they wear, what sort of animal will follow them around."

What, for you, is the best part of writing books for children? And the most difficult?
PC: "There are many good things about making books for children. I love reading the books to children at schools and getting their response. I'm always fascinated by the ideas they pick up from the stories, often things that I had never considered. On a personal note, it's immensely satisfying coming up with an idea that I think will work, then gradually bringing the characters to life. It can feel quite powerful at times, creating my own little people with their own little triumphs and tragedies.

"The most difficult parts are the boring bits like working out money stuff, though sometimes the most challenging thing is trying to draw something the way I see it in my head. My hand doesn't always do as it's told and I have to reach a sort of compromise between my imagination and my ability. It always works out in the end."

Any advice for wanna-be children's book writers out there?
PC: "I think it's important to get opinions of your work from people that you trust. If you are going to submit to a publisher, make sure you research the publishers well and choose one that suits the story you have written. Check out the Australian Writers' Marketplace for details on just about everything, and join up to the weekly online newsletter, Pass It On. You can find out everything you need to know from those two sources. Finally, just because something is hard, it doesn't mean it's impossible. Keep going."

You can find out more about Peter and his books at petercarnavas.com.

In good news, the engaging Sophia has given me two extra sets of Peter's Little Treasures collection, featuring Sarah's Heavy Heart, The Important Things, Last Tree In The City and Jessica's Box, to give away. Yes, a giveaway! The excitement. To enter, simply leave a comment below. Entries close at 6pm on Tuesday November 8, and Mr4 will draw two numbers at random at 7pm (before bed) on Tuesday November 8, with the winners announced on Wednesday November 9. Oh, and please friend the Fibro if you haven't already. Good luck!

Were you a Trixie Belden fan?

Mr7 is reading Trixie Belden books. Books written in the 1950s about a teenage girl and her friends who solve mysteries. Their gang is known as The Bob-Whites of the Glen. BWG. They are named after a flock of birds. It is all so innocent and twee as to be faintly ridiculous. Assuming, of course, that you didn't know better...

Mr7 is reading Trixie Belden books because I bought them for him. I was obsessed with Trixie. She was so cool. Always described as 'sturdy' with freckles and sandy curls. She hated sewing and all the other girl stuff that 'Moms' wanted her to do. She wasn't scared of anything. Her best friend Honey Wheeler was tall, slim and really good at all that stuff. My friend S and I used to pretend to be Trixie and Honey. Swapping roles, depending on the day. Trixie followed on from our Famous Five obsession. I think S's mum was glad when we grew out of the Famous Five, because we'd dug a sizeable hole in her backyard in our attempt to create an underground clubhouse.

I wasn't entirely sure that Mr7 would take to Trixie, her being a girl and using such phrases as 'gleeps!' and 'gadzooks'. But I think he responds to exactly the same things I did.. She's a resourceful girl our Trixie. Smart, persistent, charming. She also has a loyal group of friends, willing to follow her to the ends of the earth and always on hand to pull her out of scrapes. And, of course, key for any Sherlock Holmes fan, there's a good mystery at the heart of every book.

I was never really a Nancy Drew girl. But I did read about 37 Trixie Belden books. I wonder if Mr7 will stay the distance.

Were you a Trixie Belden fan?

There are times in life when I wish I could sew...

As a non-sewing, non-crafty, non-gifted-in-most-areas mother, there are certain times of the year that I dread. Book Week is one of those times. Others include Easter (Bonnet Parade, anyone?), Christmas (I can make a mean Shepherd's head-dress out of a towel, but that's the extent of my talents) and, indeed, any time of the year that might conjure up the need for a, gulp, costume.

Tonight my focus is on Book Week. Because it's next week. It could be worse, I guess. It could be tomorrow.

Mr7's Book Week aspirations have suffered some downgrading since he first arrived home last week declaring that he would be Robin Hood. I thought fast. If I could find some facsimile of an elfy-green shirt and a bow and arrow, we might pull it off. Spirits were high as we hit the shops of Fibrotown last Friday. Spirits were low as we trudged home again. No bow, no arrows (though he fixed this problem by making them himself from straight sticks and feathers and flinging them at his brother), specifically, and tragically, no green pointy hat.

The next morning he awoke, full of inspiration. "I won't be Robin Hood, I'll be Sherlock Holmes," he said. Great, I thought, how hard can that be? Er, hard. Apparently only a long coat will do and we have, as yet, been unable to turn up a child-sized Sherlock coat. Or a pipe, for that matter. We have a tweed cap, a magnifying glass and a notebook, however, so I feel like I've put some points on the board there.

As the days have drifted on and I've not shown enough enthusiasm for spending every afternoon unearthing the perfect costume, he has downgraded once more.

"I suppose I could go as Harry Potter," he said, glumly. I leapt on that suggestion. We have a robe, a wand, some glasses... and there's been so much 'Accio this' and 'Leviosa that' going on over the past year that he's a shoe-in. "Why so glum about that idea?" I asked.

Turns out there are at least three other boys in his class alone going as the Great Potter. I tried to bring him out of his slump by entertaining him with ideas for the collective noun for a group of Potters (see, I really am the most Fun Mum ever...). "A flight of Potters?" I ventured. "A spell of Potters? A Hogwart of Potters? A Dumbledore of Potters?" It wasn't until I got to A Quidditch of Potters that he even managed to raise a grin.

I confess that I spent tonight googling Sherlock Holmes accessories. I have been to op shops looking for coats. I even contemplated making a boat hat out of green paper and sticking a feather on it. This is what we non-sewing, non-crafting, non-gifted-in-most-areas mums are reduced to at times like these. I am wondering if I can put him in a black turtleneck, black trousers, black shoes and a woebegone expression and sending him as a starving writer? That would work for Book Week, right?

Do you love getting the kids dressed up, or dread it as much as I do? In the meantime, I open the floor to your suggestions for the collective noun for a group of Harry Potters. Give it your best shot people! The winner gets to make Mr7 a costume.


[image: if all else fails, he can wear a paper bag on his head, as per this gorgeous print by katep/etsy - or maybe I will...]

Harry Potter, Enid Blyton, Captain Underpants: One night at the book fair

If there's one thing that bonds my family together it's a second hand book fair. There is not a member of my clan who can pass up the chance to rummage around in piles of yellowing pages, searching for... who knows what? Which is how Sister B and I found ourselves speeding off into the night last week during my visit, leaving our combined offspring in the tender care of LOML (visit Maxabella if you haven't met him, he's a peach), en route to meet Sister C at the local charity book fair.

It was 8pm. The book fair was open until 9pm. Plenty of time, given it was but ten minutes up the road. Only it wasn't. By the time we'd missed the turn-off twice, squinting in the dark, and driven up the highway until we could find another right-hand turn (raise your hand if you've never been in that position in Sydney...), shrieking at each other between hysterical laughter because the whole thing was just so, so funny, it was 8.30pm before we screeched into a park near the hall in which the fair was held.

Or, sort of near. By the time we'd puffed up the hill, beside building site, around the corner and down a dark stretch of highway, it was 8.35pm. "I bet Sister C is inside, blithely browsing, not even thinking of us," muttered Sister B. I could almost hear the classical music playing as I pictured Sister C's serene joy. As opposed to the heavy metal thunder that would accompany our frantic run to the starting line.

"Good God, we've only got 25 minutes," shouted Sister B, throwing coins into the Donation bottle as she made a beeline for Children: Classics. I was right behind, emptying the silver from my over-burdened wallet. I was already loaded down by The Secret Garden, The Call of the Wild, a random Famous Five novel, and the Postman Pat Story Treasury (a classic??) by the time Sister C wandered over a few minutes later. "Did you even look to see if I was here?" she asked. Er, no, we had to admit.

Systematically, we made our way up and down the children's book tables. "Captain Underpants?" I asked, holding it aloft. "Mine!" said Sister C, taking it for Nugget. "Anyone seen any Zac Power?" asked a frazzled looking woman. "Not a one," said Sister B, sadly.

The organisers announced the 'last books' warning. Ten minutes to go. "I need a fire engine book," I said, muttering it under my breath, over and over. "I've got Inventors for Mr7," said Sister B. "Find me some Ladybird readers." Sister C pounced on a copy of the first Harry Potter for $1, touting it as the bargain of the day. Then she found me a different copy of The Secret Garden - "less girly cover and $1 cheaper," she said, handing it over. "Win/win."

By the time the organisers generously helped us out the door just after 9pm, we'd managed to collect a box of books each. Piles and piles of reading pleasure. Adding up to a princely donation from each of us to the charity in question. And we had not even made it out of the children's area. Sister B glanced longingly at the gardening books. "I saw a Paul Bangay over there, I'm sure," she said.

Then she looked at me. "Probably a good thing we only had 25 minutes," she said, hefting her foam box of books under her arm for the long walk back to the car.

[image: favim.com]

It's Elementary, my dear Mr7

Mr7 has a new love. Gone are the days of wands and wizards and Accio Teddy Bear! Harry Potter has been put back on the shelf, ready to be resurrected when Mr7 is old enough to tackle the grumpy Harry of books 4-7. Instead, he has pulled on a Hawker hat and dragged the magnifying glass out of his old Explorer's kit.

Mr7 has discovered Mr Holmes - and it's love at first sight.

It all began with The Baker Street Boys. I have been desperately seeking out a new series of books to capture his attention and wean him off Harry, Ron, Hermione et al. It has required that I read a whole selection of children's books myself (which has been quite an education in itself) looking for titles that are challenging and yet age-appropriate.

After some consultation with J, the lovely children's librarian at the Fibrotown library, I came home with The Ranger's Apprentice (which I loved, but Mr7 did not), Emily Rodda's Key to Rondo (jury still out), something about The Magnificent 12 (nobody was too keen), the first book in The 39 Clues (looked good but Mr7 found scary) and The Case of The Ranjipur Ruby, one of Anthony Read's Baker Street Boys series. Once he got his head around the old-fashioned setting and some of the language, he was hooked. To the point where he immediately began searching out Sherlock Holmes stories.

Once again the Fibrotown library provided - abridged versions of Holmes classics. Is there nothing you cannot find at a public library?

It's not his first foray into the joys of mystery novels. The Famous Five and The Secret Seven are old friends, as is Encylopedia Brown. But, as any grown-up fan knows, Holmes is the original and the best. I asked Mr7 why he liked him so much. "I like the mysteries - and he's really, really smart, Mum." What's not to love?

And so we sat together tonight and began reading A Study in Scarlet, the first Holmes story ever published, brought home today in the illustrated version from the school library. Being an old Holmes hand by now, Mr7 was thrilled at the references in the introduction to the Baker Street Boys, The Red-headed League and other classic Holmes stories. He's putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

I confess that I was worried that the central tenet of the opening chapter is a dead body lying in a room. But he was unperturbed by this. "It's just a story, Mum," he said. Indeed, the setting, the old-fashioned politeness, the language and his own sheer lack of worldliness make such stories seem less real to him than Star Wars or Harry Potter. Despite this, The Builder and I have decided that A Study in Scarlet is not age-appropriate and have put it on the shelf marked 'later', alongside Harry Potter  - it seems that I'll be speed-reading my way through several Holmes stories in the near future looking for those that are not too dark and dire (all suggestions gratefully received).

I can understand why he likes them. A classic story is a classic story, no matter what your age or time zone. And, as any fan of mystery or crime novels will tell you, the joy is not just in solving the puzzle, but in the triumph of good over evil at the end.

Holmes always wins. It's elementary.

What are your kids enjoying reading at the moment?

So you want to write a children's book?

Like every other parent in the history of the world (okay, those who think about this kind of stuff), I've considered writing a children's book. I can tell a story, you know. You should hear the one that I used to tell Mr7 about his bear Bronte back when he was two. Bronte went in search of a pink ribbon. She had to drive many, many miles to find one. It had rollercoaster thrills, laughs and even a moral. It was... meh.

The truth is that 'knocking out' a kids' book is no mean feat. As any writer will tell you, writing short is much, much harder than writing long. Every single word has to work so much harder when they're limited. Which makes children's author Karen Collum's achievements all the more admirable. With two picture books appearing on the shelves almost simultaneously (Fish Don't Need Snorkels (UK) and Samuel's Kisses, launched in Australia today, New Frontier Publishing), plus When I Look At You (UK, 2011) and a junior novel, Operation Raspberry, out in 2012, you could say that she's on a roll.

Given that she also has four children, it's surprising Karen has time to breathe. But, lucky for us, she found time to pop into the Fibro to answer a few questions for aspiring children's book authors.

Do you find that people think 'children's books are short, they must be easy'? How far from the truth is this?
Karen Collum: "Many people do assume that picture books are the easiest things in the world to write due to their brevity. In reality, I believe picture books are the pinnacle of skill, talent and creativity (then again, I'm probably biased!).

"For me, every single word in a picture book has to fight for its place in the manuscript. Does it propel the story? Does it add to the rhythm of the text? How does it sound when read aloud? Anyone can write a 500-word story, but the masters of picture books - such as Wendy Orr, Mem Fox, and Jackie French - manage to use those 500 words to weave a tapestry of story that is simply divine."

Do you work on one book at a time? How long does it take you?
KC: "I have multiple projects on the go at once, although they're usually at different stages of development. I have a notebook for recording ideas on the run: phrases, images, characters or story arcs that might be useful. The next step is to write the first draft. Sometimes that feels as easy as being a scribe; other times it's as difficult as squeezing words from the proverbial stone. I use a template during this phase, which enables me to think about the text in terms of a standard picture book format of 32 pages. I can think about where the page turns and see where the natural breaks in the text fall.

"I then put the manuscript away for as long as possible - sometimes for 12 months or more - and come back to it with fresh eyes and a sharp knife to begin the editing process. This can take anywhere from a few days to a few months as I agonise over every word. I also workshop the manuscript with some trusted critique buddies and listen to their feedback - which I don't always take on board, though I do always consider.

"The time frame varies, but for me it's a minimum of a 6-8 month process to get a picture book from the idea stage to the point where it's ready to submit."

Do you illustrate your own books? If not, how does the illustration process work?
KC: "I would love to be able to illustrate, but sadly my artistic talents are almost non-existent. As my friend and fellow picture-book author Kathryn Apel says, we non-illustrators have to paint pictures with our words. One of the best things I can do as an author is to allow room for the illustrator. The best picture books are the ones where the text and illustrations join together to create something so much greater than the sum of the individual parts.

"Once a publisher accepts my manuscript, they choose an illustrator they believe is a good match for my text. Most of the time authors don't have input to this process. It can be hard to let your precious manuscript go, but I firmly believe that the publisher wants nothing more than to see the book become a roaring success. They choose a certain illustrator for good reason.

"My experience with this process has certainly been a positive one. The illustrations for Samuel's Kisses [by Serena Geddes] are better than I could ever have imagined."

What do you think it is that makes our most beloved picture books stand the test of generations?
KC: "For me, timeless picture books are those that reflect our inner experiences and emotions. The classic that springs to mind is Where The Wild Things Are [by Maurice Sendak]. I think that it is still such a loved book because every child has felt overwhelming, powerful anger and wished they could be far away from their family.

"A modern picture book that I think will have longevity is The Princess and Her Panther by Wendy Orr and Lauren Stringer. All children are frightened by something and this book explores fear in a safe, poetic and beautiful way.

"I also think that some picture books stand the test of time due to their beautiful language. Some books are just divine to read aloud again and again, like Bear Snores On by Karma Wilson."

What was your favourite book as a child?
KC: "I read a lot as a child, but funnily enough I don't have a memory of any one particular picture book. My dad used to read us bedtime stories every night and I have wonderful memories of warmth and togetherness, even though I don't have a specific title that stands out for me. I did, however, love the Berenstain Bears books and learned to read independently with The Bike Lesson."

And I ask you the same question - what was your favourite book as a child? 

Wild about Harry

Mr6 and I are reading Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone together. Last year, I read it to him. He loved it. Could recount every detail. Then someone from school lent him the DVD. I warned him he wouldn't like it. This is a kid who has nightmares at the slightest provocation. Somehow I felt that Voldemort was large provocation. But he was not to be dissuaded.

So I let him watch it. With these words ringing in his ears: "I will let you watch this so that next time I tell you that you are too young for a movie you will believe me."

Five nights of waking up screaming later, he believed me. "I thought Fluffy was soft and purple," he said of the three-headed doberman depicted in the film.

"I wish you still did," I answered.

The unfortunate side-effect was that he wouldn't even read the second book with me. We'd begun it, he was enjoying it. Post-movie, it was pushed so far to the back of the book shelf that we have yet to find it again.

No-one was more surprised than me when he bought out the first book again last week. "Let's read this," he said. "I've forgotten what happens."

This time, we're taking it in turns to read. I love Harry Potter. I do. I read them all before I even had children. They're just fun. A rollicking good read. Say what you like about J.K Rowling's literary prowess, the woman knows how to write a great story.

So far, so good. No sign of nightmares or even unsettled dreams. Then again, no sign of Fluffy yet, and only the slightest mention of He Who Shall Not Be Named. I have my fingers crossed we'll get to the end and he'll want to go on to Book Two.

Then we'll just have to find it...

Speaking of reading, don't miss your weekly dose of quality blogs at Lori's Flog Yo Blog Friday.

When the going gets tough...

Mr6's literary career continues apace. He's finished writing his first original story - following our discussion about plagiarism - and has branched out into comic books. I've decided to help him along a little, begin building his 'platform' so to speak, by featuring the first three pages of his comic book as today's guest post. When he is rich and famous and supporting his ageing parents, he will be able to remember his humble beginnings on his mum's quaint little blog.

There is also the unspoken bonus of his mum not having to think up a blog post tonight when she has many of her own unwritten original stories to magic up out of nowhere.

So, without further ado and all that. All text is [sic] and is accompanied by illustrations of the same character you see above. There are a lot of thought bubbles (as per image) containing words such as 'ha' and 'ha ha'. The text inside these is identified below with TB. I can't use all illustrations as he has used his own name throughout - I have yet to discuss with him the joys of the nom de plume.

Title:
the ADVentURES of [Mr6] the night in shiny amar  - TB 'ha'

page 1:
once there was a night his name was [Mr6]. TB - will I win. I have to win. will I. ha you lose.

page 2 (pictured)
he was going to win a batle when he ran away. TB - I new it I am not going to win.


He assures me there is more to come. I don't know about you, but I'm desperate to find out the night's motivation for running away. Any suggestions as to what the reason might be?

{image: Mr6}

The mystery of my Blyton voice

Tonight I realised that I have an Enid Blyton voice. It is terribly proper, pitched slightly higher than my usual speaking voice, and rounded at the edges. Perfect for talking about lashings of ginger beer and the importance of being polite.

It's been creeping up on me for a little while, this realisation. As Mr6 and I worked our way through books one to five of the Famous Five series, with its references to Anne's love of keeping house and the thrill of hard-boiled eggs, right through books one to six of the Secret Seven with its jolly hockey sticks overtones and its terribly privileged young protagonists, I wondered why my throat hurt if I read more than one chapter. It's the strain of my Blyton voice.

It only really came to the fore this evening, thanks to a rapid switch between reading one of Dav Pilkey's haphazard Captain Underpants books and a quick adventure in the Wishing Chair with the Terribly Polite Goblin. Captain Underpants demands a sort of 'Cor Blimey' excitement - quite the contrast with the tea, scones and Sunday Best vibe wheeled out for any Blyton.

It's quite specific, the Blyton voice. I can't think of any other books we read that require it. Not Zac Power, that's for sure. Not Harry Potter. Not even the 27th Annual African Hippopotamus Race. Anne of Green Gables or The Secret Garden might be candidates for it, but there's likely to be little call for those in a house full of boys.

I read recently that Enid Blyton's books have been 'sensitively' updated to include mobile phones. Julian even calls his maternal figure 'mum', not 'Mother'. Shudder. I will have to stick to vintage editions as there would be no call for the Blyton voice in such books.

Still, it's good to know that I can pull it out when I need it. I've been asked to do a reading at the school mass on Friday. I think this is a cunning plan to ensure my attendance. I can't think of a better outing for the Blyton voice, though, can you?

Does Enid Blyton bring out the 'terribly English' in your reading voice? Perhaps you have another secret voice that only appears when you read certain things? Please share. It would be good to know that I'm not alone in sounding like a complete pillock.

Does your Dad think he's funny?

Fam Fibro had big plans for this weekend. We were going to the Big Smoke. To the footy. To visit family. To see friends. But the weather conspired against us. A rugby league match loses its appeal when you know you'll be sitting on the grass, in the open, in the rain. It went against the grain, but we cancelled.

Which left us at a loose end. For a whole weekend. When was the last time you had an entire weekend with no plans? In the rain? What did you do?

Yesterday, we cleaned house. With me gritting my teeth against the tedium of it all while we were doing it - and smiling with joy once it was done. Half of my To Do list was To Done in one fell swoop. Good feeling.

Today it was literally blowing a gale. The front yard was awash with twigs and branches and leaves and general debris. Which was a better outcome than our neighbour on the corner, whose front yard was buried under an entire tree.

It was also Fathers' Day. Mr3 had picked out Katrina Germein's picture book 'My Dad Thinks He's Funny' to give to The Builder. He was drawn to the illustration (by Tom Jellett) on the front of the Dad holding the kid upside down. This form of acrobatics is often practised in the Fibro. I admit I smirked as I paid the shop assistant for it. I'd read the front page, you see.

"My Dad thinks he's funny. Whenever I put lots of sauce on my plate, Dad says, 'Would you like some dinner with that sauce?'"

It wasn't even so much that I could hear The Builder saying that, as the fact that I could hear my Dad saying that. The book is full of those universal Dad sayings. The ones that make you wonder if there's some kind of Dad study group out there that they're not telling you about. I'm pretty sure my Dad graduated top of that particular class.

Of course, each Dad also has his own particular brand of stand-up. Confronted by a group of children - actually, anyone under 40 - he will not be able to help himself saying, 'heads on 'em like mice'. It's just what he does. But he's funnier when he's not trying.

One afternoon, when I was about 15, I was standing out the front of our house, talking to a boy from around the corner. Dad wandered down the drive, carrying a pink double-bed mattress. He opened the gate, and walked past as we watched in silence.

"Where are you going with that?" I asked, teenage disdain dripping from every syllable.

"To the club," he responded.

"Like, why would anyone take a mattress to the club?" I asked (you can see the eye-roll, can't you?).

"To swap it for a suit, of course," he replied, sailing off down the street with his mattress, leaving us in fits of laughter at the gate.

He came home with a suit. It still makes me laugh. Did they do the deal in the carpark, or did he swing into the bar with his eye-catching load?

That one's not in the book. But you'll remember this one: "When I tell Dad I think there's something in my eye, he says 'Yeah, an eyeball.'"

The Builder says he doesn't use all these jokes.

I say, 'Not yet.'