Can’t I just kick it? Book 8 Published on August 3rd

The postman brought me my advance copies of book 8 in the Girls FC series today. I like the light green cover but poor Tabinda looks a bit anxious. Her posture and expression reflect the theme of the story - her fear of heading the ball. When I was discussing the book last week with Y6 children in Keyworth I asked them what they were scared of most. Sharks were mentioned a number of times!

I receive 8 copies of each book I write when they’re published but can ask for more if I need them to give as gifts or prizes. I have put one copy of Can’t I just kick it? next to the other 7 titles leaning against my computer hard drive. It’s gratifying to see them mount up. I’ve been working on the series for three years now and estimate it will be another year before all the books are done and dusted. I’m going to have a huge party when they’re all finished and invite everyone who has been involved in them. I’ll probably need to build an extension… there’s quite a list.

Sonia Leong©

Leading neatly on from yesterday’s blog about school lunches, I thought about Rotherham. Rotherham is in South Yorkshire, home to ex- England keeper David Seamen and pride of England World Cup ref Howard Webb. It’s also the town where Jamie Oliver famously tried to convert the town’s school dinners into something healthy and edible, much to the disgust of some of the mums who were filmed posting their poor mites burgers through the school fence. Quite right too. Don’t come ‘ere with your fancy soft southern ways, pal….

But apart from that one of the best things to come out of Rotherham in recent times was an anthology of creative writing by Rotherham children. I was sent a copy by a friend, Karen Borthwick, who works for the Borough Council and this is my tardy way of saying thank you, seeing as I lost her email address.

The anthology, Where We Stood, is brilliant. I’m not just saying that; every piece of prose and every poem resonates. Here’s one on reading by Claire Mills aged 10 of Maltby Manor School.

We Didn’t Do Much Reading Today

No I didn’t do much reading today,

Only the odd labels on shampoos liquid soap.

I didn’t do much reading today,

I only read the crackling, nutritious label on the Rice Krispies

I didn’t do much reading today,

Only the odd bits like teletext to see what was on TV.

I didn’t do much reading today,

Only the milk label and a bit of the newspaper

and a book to my little brother.

I didn’t do much reading on my way to school this morning,

Only the numbers on peoples houses

And the label on my sports trousers.

I didn’t do much reading today,

Only the odd signs for cars

and to let me know when to walk and not to walk.

I didn’t do much reading today,

Only the number line on the wall

and the calendar to see what date it was.

I didn’t do much reading today,

So I’m looking forward to going home and curling up

with my book so I can start READING!

© Claire Mills from ‘Bookmarks 2000′ sponsored and funded by Rotherham Metropolitan Borough Council and Yorkshire Forward.  See Gloucester Council. Rotherham folks’ sandwich boxes might make you grimace but so what?  Rotherham Council has better things to do, like encouraging their kids to write poems and stories. I know to who I’d rather pay my council tax …

I'm guessing this wouldn't pass muster in Gloucester

They call Britain the Nanny State and for good reason. I’ve read about councils sticking secret bugs in dustbins to check the householders aren’t putting in waste that doesn’t belong there. I’ve read about councils spying on parents by following them in an unmarked car to check they really are living in the school catchment area they say they are living in. I’ve read about a school who banned a dad from watching his son’s sports day because he hadn’t been CRB checked but the latest one in Gloucestershire is jaw dropping.

Lunchtime supervisors in a primary school are taking children’s packed lunches out of the lunch box and photographing the contents. If the contents don’t fit their healthy criteria, they send the photograph to the parents, together with a letter with suggestions of what they should be packing, in an effort to ‘educate’ them. Now this takes the biscuit (ha!) it really does. For a start, if school lunches weren’t so disgusting, kids wouldn’t take a pack up in the first place. Second, what a parent gives to their child is their business. Sure, some parents may well be providing inadequate, high fat and salty food of which the snoopers might not approve but there are better ways to inform people and change their habits. Do you know what I’d do if my child went to that school? I’d stuff that box to the rim with greasy chips and burgers and a note that said  ‘In your face’ when the nosy ‘nanas opened it.  Besides, I’ve seen what some teachers have in their lunch boxes and believe me, they’re not all bouncing with bonny nutrients from Waitrose, either.  We’re talking crisps. We’re talking chocolate. We’re talking sausage rolls.  We’re talking tuna mayonnaise salad with enough mayo to block up the BP oil leak. Oh yes, admit it, Mrs Wotsit.  You know it’s true. Furthermore while I’m up here on my high horse, the ‘recommended alternatives’ of cereal bars, fresh fruit and fruit drinks are not all that good for kids either. Sugar, sugar and more sugar.  Here’s a radical idea. Let pupils eat what they want so they don’t grow up obsessing about their weight but make sure they burn their lunch off by doing plenty of exercise. What? They can’t because you’ve sold the playing fields and stopped taking them swimming to save money?  Oh, I see. Plenty of money for cameras though, eh?

Did you see the story a few weeks ago about the little girl who told the artist LS Lowry that he couldn’t be famous because ‘No one at my school has ever heard of you.’  Brilliant!  Young Miss Ethelwyn Warburton (whose name sounds like a Roald Dahl character if I ever heard one) was 9 or 10 when she told him this in 1952.  Isn’t it reassuring that they had rude kids in those days, too?  See, we can’t blame everything on Matt Groening or Facebook.

In response to her jibe, Lowry borrowed Ethelwyn’s paint tin and dashed off a watercolour for her.  It took him about five minutes tops and recently fetched £62,000 at auction.

I’m surprised Lowry felt the need to prove himself to a ten- year old. ‘Well all the kids at your school must be thick,’ is what I would have told her. But then I’m not famous. In fact, I’m so used to nobody having heard of me that when they tell me they have I’m genuinely delighted.  ‘Really? That’s amazing!’ I gush and ask for their autograph.

Sometimes librarians and teachers introduce me to a group of children along the lines of: ‘Today we’ve got a famous author visiting us.’  I look over my shoulder to see who is behind me. ‘But you are famous to them,’ one librarian explained when I questioned this blatant fib.

I suppose I should see it as a compliment that children associate writers with fame but it’s rather sad, too. It feels as if I have to justify my presence; that it makes the event more special to say ‘famous author’ rather than ‘author’. Surely being a published author is enough?

I reckon there is only one children’s writer in the whole of the UK who is so famous as to be instantly recognizable to the man in the street and that’s JK Rowling. Avid readers would recognize Jacqueline Wilson; maybe Philip Pullman and Anthony Horowitz at a push but most children’s writers - even the ones who have done so well they have fan clubs and a Blue Peter badge - don’t get mobbed in Blockbusters. Why, only the other month I managed to walk the whole length of the Old Brompton Road with Jeremy Strong and not one person put us on You Tube.  Those passers-by must be kicking themselves.

Yet for me that’s what’s so great about being a writer instead of an actor or TV personality; we’re allowed to lead pretty ordinary lives. We don’t need Botox to appear before our fans. We get away with having cellulite in front of our computer screens. We eat in Pizza Express. We shop at Sainsbury’s. If we didn’t, we couldn’t write. There would be far too many distractions.

Me being not famous in Lanarkshire

Torres

Thank goodness Iniesta scored for Spain in added time - there was no way I could have watched a penalty shoot out!  It wasn’t a classic final but finals often aren’t because all the energy goes into the semis. Before the match I hadn’t minded which team won but after the first half I was definitely rooting for Spain. I’m a fan of Kuyt but some of his team mates’ tackles were just too gung-ho tonight. I lost count of how many yellow cards Howard Webb dished out and have no idea why he was booed so roundly when he went up for his medal at the end.  I noticed the Holland manager took his medal straight off and stuffed it in his pocket. Strange.

I was worried for Torres (and Liverpool) when he pulled up with a torn hamstring about five minutes after he’d come on but was relieved to see him on the podium afterwards. Well done Spain - you deserved it.

I know it seems like years ago when England were all revved up for the match against Germany (by the way, hard lines, Germany - good match against Spain last night) but I did like Brian Blessed’s stirring rendition of King Henry’s speech from Shakespeare’s Henry V, chosen to inspire ‘the lads.’ Pity it didn’t work…

From: Henry V Scene 1 Act III

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;

Or close the wall up with our English dead.

In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man

As modest stillness and humility:

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,

Then imitate the action of the tiger;

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,

Disguise fair nature with hard-favour’d rage;

Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;

Let it pry through the portage of the head

Like the brass cannon; let the brow o’erwhelm it

As fearfully as doth a galled rock

O’erhang and jutty his confounded base,

Swill’d with the wild and wasteful ocean.

Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,

Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit

To his full height. On, on, you noblest English,

Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!

Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,

Have in these parts from morn till even fought,

And shield their swords from lack of argument:

Dishonour not oyur mothers; now attest

That those whom you call’d fathers did beget you.

Be copy now to men of grosser blood,

And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen,

Whose limbs were made in England, show us here

The mettle of your pasture. Let us swear

That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;

For there is none of you so mean and base,

That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,

Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot:

Follow your spirit, and upon this charge

Cry ‘God for Harry, England and Saint George!’

England Women’s team 2020: Left to right Claudia, Sophie, Ellie, Lucy, Tara. Front: Victoria, Emily, Victoria and Mia

I called in at Keyworth today to Willow Brook Primary School, home of Rushcliffe Girls’ Football Champions. I first met the Willow Brook team at the ESFA Midlands regional finals back in March where they were narrowly defeated in the final by Thomas Jolyffe Primary.

Several of the girls will be going up to secondary school in September - I hope they keep playing girls’ football. And I hope they tell everyone how brilliant my books are, too!

Hello to everyone at Willow Brook, especially the Y6’s I met after assembly.

Not a pretty sight

I knew as soon as I got stuck in traffic on the A1 just outside Doncaster it was going to be one of those days and lo and behold what greeted me as soon as I (finally) set foot in the school hall at St Austin’s?  A Leeds flag.  As if spending ten days on the road with Tom Palmer wasn’t enough punishment!  Turns out the caretaker’s a United fan, too. There’s no accounting for taste.

St Austin’s had spent a whole week writing about the World Cup and I had been invited in to work with the Y4s on ‘Do Goalkeepers Wear Tiaras?’ I thought I’d begin by getting them to work in pairs with a ball, with A being the goalie and B being the striker, just to get the ‘feel’ of either facing a penalty or taking one as Megan does in the opening scenes. Not the best idea I’d ever had, to be honest. Year 4s are an excitable bunch with selective hearing. The statement ‘I don’t want you to actually kick the ball’ falling on ears even more deaf than mine.  Bless ‘em.

In the classroom, we worked in groups to create teams, making up a name  a nickname and the squad. There were some great ideas - i particularly liked the Queen Bees.  As usual, I tried to pack too much in so we didn’t finish every task but perhaps the classes will send me their finished work so I can post it later on my website. I enjoyed my hectic day at St Austin’s. I hope they did too.

Cleckheaton Library

The 2010 Reads United Tour with Tom Palmer and me is, like England, France, Italy, Argentina and Brazil’s part in the World Cup, now at an end.  Between June 22nd and July 4th we:

Have driven 1,550 miles

Met 38 schools

Performed in 5 schools 1 library, 1 Memorial Hall, I Town Hall, 1 County Hall and 1 football club’s hospitality suite (Portsmouth FC)

Awarded  15 Reading Game trophies

Stayed in 3 hotels

Presented 1 prize to a short story competition winner in Ipswich

Discovered 1 Huddersfield Town fan in Wrexham

Noted that the most popular children’s authors among children aged 7-11 were: Michael Morpurgo, Jacqueline Wilson, Enid Blyton, Roald Dahl, Anthony Horowitz & Jeff Kinney.

Said ‘It’s too hot’ a thousand times

Enjoyed ourselves immensely.

Thank you to everyone we met from all the way down to Portsmouth to all the way up to Cleckheaton and all the places in between: Wrexham, Rotherham, Ipswich, Lepton and Matlock. It’s bin emotional.

Such is our dedication that Tom and I don’t even get Sundays off! No chance of a lie-in or a quick browse through the newspapers today as we headed for the spa town of Matlock in Derbyshire to participate in the Big Book Bash.

The grand council offices - a converted Victorian luxury hotel - were buzzing when we got there at lunchtime. I was delighted to see writer Julia Jarman as I entered the ‘green room’ where all the performers were gathered for lunch and gave her a big book bash hug. Also in there was Robert Crowther, Guy Bass and Berlie Doherty as well as some tempting cream scones and carrot cake!

Our first session went well, despite being in a chamber room more used to  budget meetings than penalty shoot-outs but we only had three families for our second session - so five kids in total. Reads United doesn’t work as well with such small numbers but we did our best to dazzle. Afterwards, Tom disappeared to catch his train and I returned to the green room to see if there was any carrot cake left but all the food had been cleared away so I made do with a bottle of water and a banana and headed home.