I’m reading at seven libraries this week, as part of the kids’ holiday program. Here are a few of the highlights, all of which, of course, come from the audience – much more interesting than the author:
– Where’s Anthony Browne?
– Don’t be stupid. Girls aren’t pirates.
[and then, following assurances of historical fact, “That’s not even true.”]
– Nana, I love you [“I love you, too,” said Nana from the rear of the room, “now sit down and listen to the story”.]
– What’s that great big thing on your head? [It’s a mole. And it’s coming off next week, but thanks for pointing it out.]
– Are you Margaret Mahy?
– Pirates are really ugly, aren’t they?
– I’ll swab the deck. That sounds good. What’s swab?
– No, let’s not read that book. Let’s read a different book.
– They better not feed ME to the sharks. I’d just eat those sharks right up.
– How do you find the pirate treasure?
– Can you read three more books? OK, two. And then another one.
(That’s all quite apart from the girl who asked if I used to wear my eye patch when I was a pirate)
We’ve made treasure maps and pirate hats, we’ve dressed up, we’ve even played pin the parrot on the pirate’s posterior, we’ve eaten quite a bit of treasure, and we’ve read pirate stories until we’re hoarse.
Now we need a cup of tea and a good lie down.