Children ran every which way, many of them in just their birthday suit. They were to sit on the floor at the front of the hall so they could see but none took any responsibility for them, and they ran amok. Crocodile Dundee was showing, and the whole town attended. The building, a tin shed, was called the Progress Hall. The noise level was rising; soon, the roof would lift off.

A question I often get asked is 'Where do you get your ideas from?' And it's a difficult question to answer on the spot. I tend to give a vague answer like 'oh, you know, they just come to me.' Which - technically - that's true. But it is a little more complicated and convoluted than that, and it does tend to take time for a story to mature to the point of being 'readable'.