A huge thank you to my blog readers. Wouldn't be here without you.
Once upon a time I had a dream. I was seven years old and wanted to be a zookeeper. It was Johnny Morris's fault. I loved Animal Magic . By the age of eight, I had a guinea pig. I soon learned that mucking it out was a real labour of love. And I didn't love it very much. I did love writing, though. I wrote a mini-novel with illustrations. Like most children of that age and of that era, I was very animal-centric, particularly as I was born and raised on a farm. My book was about a cat called Tom and a dog called Blackie and how the pair of them foiled a kidnapping plot. I've still got it somewhere. When I find it, I'll show you. So in my ninth year, I decided if I wanted to be a writer when I grew up, the best thing I could do was become a journalist. I'd seen a film on television and loved the fast pace and the wisecracks. I loved this remake, too, of The Front Page . My journalistic career wasn't quite like the movies, apart fr...