On Wednesday last, to London, for a joint event with Geraldine McCaughrean, expertly chaired by Nicolette Jones. I'm not quite sure how Geraldine and myself became a double act, but every time I appear with her at some event or festival I get a strange feeling of dreams-come-true, as she's been my favourite author since long before my own books started to be published. They say that you should never meet your heroes, but in Geraldine's case I'm very glad I did, because it turns out that she's not only a genius but funny, kind and beautiful too. Place your orders with Father Christmas NOW for a copy of her latest, The Death-Defying Pepper Roux, in which she turns the light of her imagination on early 20th Century France and the profound and playful tale of an innocent abroad.

Home to Dartmoor on Thursday. The trees are bare now, and the rain is hammering at the windows. A good crisp frost would be nice, but all we seem to get between October and January is warm, wet wind. Still, this afternoon I'll be kneeling on the floor of Leusdon Memorial Hall with a bucket of poster paint, helping to prepare backdrops for the Moorland Merrymakers' panto. What could be more seasonal than that?