Quite recently I visited Dog Kennel Hill School in South London during their book week. While waiting for the classes to file in for assembly, I got talking to a Year 3 class who were the first to arrive.
I asked them if they were enjoying Book Week and what had they been doing to celebrate it. They told me about their writing project based upon Ted Hughes’ The Iron Man and that they’d heard an author was coming in at some point.
“Are you an author?” one of them eyed me up suspiciously. I tried to adjust my dress assertively; it was hanging wonkily upon me. Only a few minutes earlier, they’d seen me doing ten push ups (quite badly.)
I hasten to add this wasn’t part of my warm up routine but that I was joining in with the PE teacher’s challenges to keep the children occupied while they were waiting for the other classes to arrive. I gave the sit ups a miss, though.
I couldn’t help looking over my shoulder to see if there was an author standing behind me.
“Erm … yes … I suppose so,” I stuttered. “But not a real one,” I interjected as one of them, wide-eyed, looking at me anew, exclaimed, “Wow!”
“I say that,” I articulated, “because my book hasn’t come out yet. It’s a few months away.”
“Ah,” said one of the children knowledgeably. “Are you a zombie author then?”