Pictures of Chickens

If you Googled ‘pictures of chickens’ because you needed images of poultry, cooked or happily scratching, I apologise. These are not those.

They’re the pictures I promised from the Chicken House Big Breakfast. Anna (who is very organised and quite handy with a camera) sent them through today. Yay! This is us, having fun yesterday on the South Bank.

In the foreground, Philip Ardagh chatting to Amanda Craig. She is normal-sized. He is Very Tall. (More on this later). He’s an excellent school talker, by the way, and very sound on the subject of used pants. But I doubt he was talking about these to Amanda.

(Note the girl in the background in the yellow hat – the daughter of one of the authors. Stunning. I may have to put that hat in one of my books at some stage.)

Janet Foxley, author of Muncle Trogg, which won the Times competition the year after Threads and comes out soon. As Janet pointed out, she’s the first pensioner to win the competition. It’s never too late! I like to think of her in the tradition of Mary Wesley and PD James. My signed copy of Muncle Trogg is sitting beside me now, ready to read. It will be very, very funny.

 

The awesome CJ Skuse, author of Rockoholic – reading an extract from it. Barry Cunningham is acting as her microphone stand. I can state for a fact that Rockoholic is fabulous and hilarious, because I have read it and I know. She’s reading the bit about the rock star and the Curly Wurly. ‘Nuff said.

 

Barry with Andrew Peters, author of Ravenwood. Barry is the Tom Cruise of the publishing world in terms of height. Andrew, as I might have mentioned, is extremely tall. Why he isn’t playing basketball for the Harlem Globetrotters with Philip Ardagh, I simply don’t understand.

 

He is, however, very good at the digeridoo.

 

I’m chatting to Amanda, who was the first person to review Threads, is a great supporter of women authors of all kinds, and an all-round fabulous person. We’re talking about a dubious book (not written by any of us, thankfully.)

 

A flock of Chickens. Again, I’m sorry if you were expecting to see them roast, or shaking their tail feathers. You’ll have to re-Google, I’m afraid.

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