James Heneghan in Quebec

It was my first Book Week tour with the Canadian Children’s Book Centre. All my writer friends had done tours, some two and three times. They told me it would be tough. “Takes a lot of energy,” they warned. The unspoken subtext? “You’re not as young as you used to be.”

They were right: I’m not as young as I used to be and it was tough. Up every morning in the dark and back to the hotel in the almost-dark as a wintery sun was disappearing behind the jagged Montreal skyline. Thirteen one-hour presentations in five days. Phew!

If it was tough then it was also rewarding. I finished the week with a job-well-done feeling. On the flight home I remembered the schools I had visited and the people I’d met — students mainly, but also I-don’t-know-how-many librarians and other staff, all of whom contributed to the success of the trip.

It was these people who made the trip memorable — all the one thousand students (count them!), sixth to eleventh graders, so eager and appreciative; and the librarians who had the coffee pot (and a plate of cookies) percolating as I arrived; and the school librarian who cooked at home the night before a special vegetarian lunch for me (stuffed zucchini and magic recipe veggie burgers —thanks Gwen); and the librarians and classroom teachers who had prepared the kids by reading my stories to them and helping them make posters and flags and badges in honour of the occasion; and the willing librarians and other organizers who shuttled me around from place to place — thanks to them all.

And all these coffee mugs! So many schools presented me with these colourful symbols of their school pride. I brought them home and now have a shelf full of useful mementoes that are sure to remind in the years to come me of all those enthusiastic young readers many miles away, over on the other side of Canada.

Last but not least, a grateful thanks to my wife Lucy who was with me every step of the way.