Hello, hello!

Let’s not even discuss the guilt-ridden lateness of this up-date since it wastes time. It must be obvious that if it hasn’t been done recently I must have been busy doing other things like having fun communicating with thousands of live people in the breathing world at various venues and events around Australia and across North America and Canada. I often think that by the time I die I will have spoken to every man, woman and child in Australia, such is the pace of life, the number of presentations, the speed of travel and the kindness of so many strangers.

I do love the life I am leading, I must admit. I love talking to different audiences. I adore meeting people. I enjoy reading my books to new groups in new places. I love the hectic schedule partly because it keeps me away from writing children’s books, a nightmare activity which I try to avoid all cost. I haven’t written a word for children since November last year. No wonder I’m so happy, so up-beat, in such a good mooooood!

I write a lot of speeches, however. I speak to such an interesting variety of groups that I can’t simply lift one speech from my files and repeat it in another place. A few weeks ago, on three consecutive days, I spoke to child care workers one evening; the next day, during Book Week, I talked to 200 children from nearby schools; and on the next afternoon I gave a presentation to workers and volunteers at the annual conference of the Ronald MacDonald Houses in Australia: it was impossible to say the same thing to each of them. So speech- writing takes much of my time and energy, and keeps my brain on fire, and ensures I’m awake and alive and ticking and thinking and reflecting. It makes me feel useful as a citizen contributing to our society. I doubt I’ll never run out of things to say which will come as no surpise to any of you, I’m sure! I gabble even when I write.

I do run out of breath, still, and my fierce asthma specialist does read the riot act from time to time about my workload. I have been ill again, thankfully not in hospital, and my health is always irritatinlgy less than perfect due to the pathetic pair of lungs I have been saddled with all my life. I go the gym and a fitness class regularly and can do things with weights and machines that impress twenty year olds who can’t do them (even though I wheeze and pant mightily) so I am as fit as an aging ashtmatic can be but I have had to cancel, very reluctantly, three events in the USA next year because I just can’t travel internationally as often as I was doing. The journeys are too long and not good for someone with my chest condition. The only other time I have had to cancel an event was years ago when Malcolm had his heart operation. I don’t like doing it. It feel so weak and unprofessional.

So age is actually catching up with me even though I’ve been running away from it as fast I could. It’s alarming. If I’m old at 60, what will I be like at 80? Will I live till 70 to see my next ten books out and on the shelves? (Yes, there are about ten books in the pipeline, all accepted and waiting for illustrators, or being illustrated as we speak.) I really want to live to be 87 so I can be at the 50th birthday celebrations for Possum Magic. Perhaps I should aim merely for the twentieth birthday in 2024 of Where Is The Green Sheep? which is selling faster than Possum Magic and looks as if it will be, in the end, my greatest classic. Thanks to both the illustrators of those books!

At least I have something to live for, whereas in this appalling world we inhabit there are many millions of children and adults whose lives are so blighted by war, flood, famine, terrorism, corruption, homelessness, abuse, ill-health and crime that life is hardly worth living; and having a ‘future’ means perhaps having just one more day. Until we learn to share what we have with those who have nothing we cannot call ourselves fully human, let alone divine.

On a lighter note, two weeks ago in Australia my latest picture book saw the light of day. It’s called A Particular Cow, and I have to say a particular thank you to a particular hero, Terry Denton, the illustrator, whose pictures are particularly quirky and without whom there would have been no particular story, really!

I love introducing new words to children and hope that my young readers will latch on to the word ‘particular’ with zest and enthusiasm and use it often, all by themselves. It appears over 20 times if you include the front and back covers. I hope they’ll also enjoy the speech balloons that Terry has contributed. They are wickedly funny and make the book an excellent conversation piece for doting parents and curious children.

Chloe, Leon, Malcolm, Nellie the dog and Whitlam the gold fish are all doing fine. Malcolm, Nell and Whitlam are all happily retired of course. Retirement for Malcolm had meant a huge increase in work level due to my demands! It’s brilliant having his help and having him with me so often when I travel for work and pleasure. He came to the IB conference in the Bahamas in July which was divine due to the standing ovation from the delegates, not just the beaches and the weather. We then went on to Turkey for three fascinating holiday-days and then to Italy to see my sister Jan and to visit the land she and her husband have bought and where they’ll be building their retirement house. We had a very old-fashioned, lovely rural time with them, drawing water from wells on their property with a rope and bucket, hand over hand, to water the plants and trees. A few weeks earlier, during a national literacy conference in Darwin, in the north of Australia, I had another lovely visit with my other sister Alison and her husband who are ‘grey nomads’, ie. retired and travelling around Australia at leisure with their caravan. I’m surrounded by retirees in my family but whatever it is that they have - the desire for a quiter life, for a start - hasn’t rubbed off on me. Yet…

Until next time, wherever you are, at work or at play, much love from me!

Mem Fox xxx