It’s very exciting to arrive at an event and set up my books. Up go the signs: The Travelling Raconteur, Guest Lecturer (’Guest Lecher’ as my children would say!), or Book Signing by Author. Author! Is that really me? I have to pinch myself. Up go a compilation of some of the pictures Mary and I have taken on our travels round the world: sunsets, animals and a variety of exotic images. Fountain pens are lined up, blotting paper roller is at the ready, and off we go. I sit there, hoping I won’t get itches where I’ve never had them before. Will that nervous tick start up at the corner of my eye? Will anybody notice? Soon I have no time for imagining such things. There’s a line of people, all clutching my book, and my off-time has disappeared down a long tunnel. At my last signing, a dapper little gentleman asked me to sign the book to his wife. ‘She loves your books,’ he said. ‘She’s read every one.’ I didn’t have the heart to tell him this was my fist book. Why spoil his day? He had certainly made mine!
I have only one complaint: why, oh why, was I given such a long name?!

Come along and enjoy the fun. We’ll be very happy to see you there.