geoffreyofcairo

Am waiting in the Qantas Club lounge in Brisbane after a full-on day of four author talks at a lovely school just out of the city sears credit card
. Another author, Deb Abela, and I spent three hours getting to the school (it should have taken forty minutes) from the airport because the highway was being dredged. The sessions went really well, and there was something else: I was told by three members of staff (separately) that there would be a girl who suffered from Turette's Syndrome in one of the sessions and that she would make a high-pitched noise throughout my talk. I thanked the teachers for the advance notification. Then, in my second last session, I heard the sound. It was a little multimaster tool, gently piercing, squeak, not unlike the sound I have heard made by baby cheetahs on the African plains. It was a beautiful sound, punctuating my presentation regularly, and what was even more beautiful was that all the other 100 or so students just took it as normal and no fuss was made.

I felt priveleged to be talking to this group at this school

...arrived today, along with a beautiful framed presentation piece with original new artwork depicting Cairo Jim, riding forth on Brenda from the pyramids of Giza, with Doris flying hurtlingly towards us. Above Jim, Doris and Brenda is a dazzling array of all 18 of the adventures, spread across the sky like a great literary smorgasbord sunrise. Underneath the artwork, mounted separately, are the words "Presented to Cairo Jim, that well-known archaeologist and little-known poet and to his tireless chronicler Geoffrey McSkimming for sixteen years of swoggling fun and adventure."

There was also a lovely bottle of something French which one of my agents was very interested to hear about because of her tendencies.

Thank you, Hachette Livre!

The book is out in TWO WEEKS

Well, the responses from the few who have read the manuscript of Cairo Jim and the Astragals of Angkor have been (thank goodness) positive. My agent, the remarkable Fiona Inglis, loved it and thought it marvellous. My publisher thought it is vintage Jim and that the ending is clever and a fitting way to conclude (for now) the chronicles. And my wonderful one for whom I wrote it (and for whom I've written all of the stories) finished reading it in the back garden and was shocked, saddened and moved by the ending and the whole tale.

Now the editing is happening, and I'm fleshing out a few bits and pieces and looking for places to squeeze in a couple of last-minute puns and gags and bits of subtle mayhem.

I wish I knew some other writer who has just closed (for the time being) a series of nineteen books. It'd be good to have someone to talk to about it, who's also gone through the whole process. Ah, well, that, I suppose, is what you get for marching to your own strange rhythm for so long.

Before the taking of a toast and tea.

Been a while since I've posted here; I'm working towards the finish of Cairo Jim and the Astragals of Angkor, and the hardest thing is trying to overcome the reluctance to finish the story. The story being so much more than this one book.

Thanks to all of you who posted re Jim and Joss. It was very helpful and I hope, if you read the 18th tale later this year, you won't be too disappointed with what goes down with them.

Thanks to T S Eliot for the lines up the top of this.

Back to the scribblepatch.

Well, here I am in the Qantas Club lounge, patiently awaiting my flight and easing myself down from the dizzying heights that a professional narrator/author can sometimes find himself elevated to in a thrusting, almost delirious sort of way.

Yes, faithful followers of all things Cairo Jim, I have just finished recording the final (for the time being) instalment in the chronicles, Cairo Jim and the Astragals of Angkor -- A Tale of Extraordinary Entanglement. It went very smoothly indeed, although I will admit to getting extremely emotional at the end. If you listen to this audio recording, to be released simultaneously with the printed book in early October, and you hear one of the characters crying towards the end of the story, I can tell you that them weren't crocodile tears, Algernon!

The booooooooth was typically booooooooooth-like. Oxygen seems to be an outdated concept in such places.

It's been the most hectic, but professionally rewarding month, this last month. I must recount a lovely incident that happened here in Melbourne last Tuesday morning.

I arrived bright and early...well, early at least, and soon I was in Melbourne city itself, trying to catch the tram to Kew, where I was appearing at Xavier College (my 11th visit there over the years to speak to their Year Fives). I thought I should catch the tram from the stop in Collins Street, as I had a more-than-vague inkling that I had done this on at least one occasion in the past. But when I got to the stop, I couldn't detect any trams whose destination was Kew. So I asked a young woman in the peak-hour crowd, and she said that I maybe should go to the stop in Swanston street--a short, diagonal distance away.

I did so, and couldn't seem to locate the appropriate tram at that stop, either. As I stood there, scowling at my timetable and at the indicator sign at the tram stop, another tram pulled up. The passengers all got on, and then the driver called out to me, "Sir? Where do you want to go?"

I resisted the temptation to reply, "Straight to a big office in Hollywood where I can oversee the production of the Cairo Jim films starring Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt", and instead answered, "Kew." She (the tram driver, not Angelina Jolie) called me over to her tram and told me she thought I should be at the Collins Street stop, but to be sure, she telephoned back to the depot from her little driver's booooooooth. This took three minutes for her to obtain the correct info, bless her, and meanwhile, the traffic behind her in Swanston Street was building up into a line considerably longer and more formidable than the ridiculous barriers that are currently being erected in Sydney for Bush Week.

Well, finally she found out that, yes, I should go the original stop, and that I should catch the Box Hill tram, and oh look, sir, there's one there, approaching right now and you should get that one if you hurry! I thanked her profusely and thanked all her passengers for their patience, then ran across the street where I just missed the Box Hill tram.

I waited to cross the second road (I had missed the tram because the traffic lights had changed), and a minute later I heard, "Sir! Sir! There's another one!" I turned to see the tram driver, her tram still stationary, gesturing me towards the second approaching tram. I gave her a wave which I hope signified "You, madam, are a wonderful person, a great ambassador for this city and I thank you from the bottom of my heart!" and then I jumped onto the Box Hill tram. And, well, my day was off to a great start.

Let me also add that when all of this happened I was NOT dressed in the baggy shorts and the pith helmet, ala Cairo Jim. I appeared as close to normal as I am ever likely to appear. I donned the CJ attire when I arrived at Xavier.

Sometimes it's all because of those little kindnesses that your day begins in the most pleasurable of ways. I hope that that woman driving the tram had as fantastic the rest of a day as I did

I'm just back from a full-on week on the Central Coast of NSW and four terrific days in Albury, southern NSW, where I was giving three high-powered, fast pitched, TOTALLY over the top Cairo Jim presentations a day, each of them lasting an hour and with questions following. Yes, folks, it's that crazy time of year again -- BOOK WEEK (though for me it's always Book Month And A Half)-- when all the EXPERTS bang on about children's books and why there isn't enough space in the newspapers covering them (children's books, not the EXPERTS, although methinks they like to see themselves up there, WAY up there, hmmm?) and people like me -- the Scribblers -- are able to go out and meet our loyal and ever-fond readers and also make a thoroughly decent living in a relatively short burst of time.

Everyone was wonderful--the organisers on the Central Coast, especially Gavin Shepherd, and the extraordinarily committed Tracy Piltz at the Albury Library/Museum. This astonishing architectural gem is only a month old, and it is truly a world-class venue. Albury is a lovely country city, and this new Library/Museum is a dazzling feather in its cap. I know, I'm mixing my sayings all over the place, but I am too wordweary to bother about that.

One funny thing at Albury: in my talks I sometimes describe one of the underground cities in Turkey I visited while researching Cairo Jim Amidst the Petticoats of Artemis. I say how the inhabitants were able to live beneath the gound in this city called Kaymakli for more that 20 years without once venturing onto the surface of the earth again. How, I ask? Because they had plenty of the two most precious and important things needed to survive: oxygen and -- and here I pause and let the kids answer, "water", which is the correct response. On Wednesday when I took the pause, one boy piped up -- before anyone else -- "Women!". He was only in Year Five, too.

I was giggle-addled for the next ten minutes. Of course, he was not far off the mark.

A killer day awaits me on Tuesday: a whirlwind trip to Melbourne, where I am speaking at two schools (the first is Xavier College in Kew, and it'll be my 11th time back there I believe). I used my Frequent Flyer points to book the flight which means I have to get up at 3 am to catch the first flight of the day. Oh, the things we do, the places we go, the times we live in...

Now I shall watch some old two-reelers before taking my little fourlegs for her evening walk

I've just come back from a couple of days in Brisbane, where I appeared at Brisbane Grammar School. It was a great time; the boys and the staff were all so welcoming and keen, and lots of questions were enthusiastically asked after each session. First off was a breakfast talk (I followed the mellifluous brass band, who started the day--at 7.30 am--with a couple of spirited jazz numbers) to about 200 boys and their parents. Then I (or was it Cairo Jim?) gave two talks to the boys in a large auditorium. Brisbane Grammar treated me wonderfully, and I say a hearty THANKS to Vicki Palmer, the Librarian there, and to all the staff and students who made the visit such a success.

This is a busy time of the year: next week I'll be speaking on the Central Coast of NSW for four days, then for three days in Albury, southern NSW. Then some Sydney schools, Melbourne schools, more Sydney schools and then back down to Melbourne to record Cairo Jim and the Astragals of Angkor in the BOOOOOOOTH. Then more Sydney schools and another trip to Queensland. And then a wet flannel on the forehead and a good lie down, methinks.

And then Cairo Jim and the Astragals of Angkor comes out, in early October.

CAIRO JIM AND THE ASTRAGALS OF ANGKOR is the 18th story in the Cairo Jim chronicles, and the 19th Cairo Jim book. I am writing it at the moment (well, not right at this precise moment, as I'm writing this journal right now). It's due for publication in Australia to start with in October this year. Other countries will publish it later.

It is the hardest story I've ever had to write.

There are still a great many fans of the Cairo Jim books around, a large number of whom (as I have learnt from friends who have contributed to this journal with their pearls of persiflage) have graduated from universities or who are studying at those places. And of course there are many young readers, from primary school upwards, who still contact me regarding the stories. And what is really wonderful for me (apart from being contacted by the established readers) is that, with the emergence of Cairo Jim's world AROUND the world, in all the new countries where the books are being published and are soon to be published, there will be a new band of appreciative readers. But I have to record that at the moment I feel very sad.

Contrary to what some people have posted on internet sites, Cairo Jim and the Astragals of Angkor will NOT be the very last Cairo Jim story. It will, however, be the last Cairo Jim story for the time being. Yes, folks, after this one, I'll be embarking on another -- very bold and performance-based -- series of writings. Hopefully, within a year or two, the first piece, written and performed by myself, might be coming to a venue near you.

Why I'm sad is because I've been writing about Jim, Doris, Brenda the Wonder Camel, Joss, Neptune F. Bone, Desdemona, Gerald Perry Esquire and the hundreds of other characters who populate the world of Cairo Jim for over 17 years. That's a long time, and whenever I think of that it feels like someone has slapped me in the cheeks with a wet sturgeon. And I really am finding it incredibly difficult to say -- FOR THE TIME BEING -- farewell to them.

During those 17 years there have been fans who have come and gone, some good friends among them. Recently I had lunch with a friend who, early on in the chronicles, was a feverish reader of the books. She probed me as to whether there would be any deaths in Astragals and I asked her if she had read any of the later titles and she said she hadn't. I said that if she had she might be able to find a few clues, especially in the last three books, as to whether there will be a death or not.

What I will say to all of the true and genuine fans out there is this: don't worry. You will not be disappointed. I will do my very best to tie up loose ends, to satisfy some of those eternal and important questions you ask, and to leave the series -- FOR THE TIME BEING -- on a high. A quirky, wonky high, perhaps, but a high nonetheless.

I just wanted to write all of this down now. I will miss Jim and all of the gang more than I know. They have been true friends and playmates and solvers of many, many quirky bits that have popped up in my strange life.

I think, finally, I understand the main motto of The Old Relics Society. I think, at last, I need a good bit of string. (Loose ends need to be tied securely, after all.)

WRITING CAIRO JIM AND THE ASTRAGALS OF ANGKOR is the hardest thing I have to do right now. But there are easier things that've taken place: some new 16mm film purchases for the Levity Collection. These include a title I've been after for ages--Million Dollar Legs, made in 1932 and starring W C Fields and an all-star cast. Some critics have described it as the funniest film ever made (a huge claim, to be sure) and I'm looking forward to receiving it next week. Yesterday I won at auction Never Give A Sucker an Even Break (1941), starring W C Fields who also wrote it under the pseudonym Otis Criblecoblis. His last great feature, and one which I haven't seen in years. Plus I got a copy of a little-known Joe E. Brown comedy, Beware Spooks! (1939).

This is the latest purchase for the Levity Theater: a beautiful Australian daybill poster for the American 1935 picture, She Gets Her Man. It's a gorgeous stone lithograph, and one of the better Australian daybills I've seen. In the early half of the 20th Century, Australian artists often made posters for American and British films that screened in Australia. Sometimes (not often) the artwork was more sumptuous than the country-of-origin posters. I think this is an example where the Australian artists really got it right. The poster measures 15 x 40 inches and is linen-backed.

I have several Australian daybills in the collection, including a rare 1927 poster for Monty Banks's Play Safe (stunning artwork of him jumping from a speeding locomotive into a racing car in a very funny thrill sequence) and a colourful 1934 daybill for Six of a Kind, starring W. C. Fields and a fine cast. Both of these are framed and hanging in The Obelisks.