The Perfect Start to my Day by Val Tyler

For me, each morning begins with Radio 4. I miss a fair amount of news because my mind tends to wander in those delicious moments between sleep and wakefulness when I am at my most creative.

A few days ago, something was said on Thought for Today that took my attention. Unfortunately, I didn’t catch the name of the contributor. On arriving home from the supermarket, he explained to his wife why he had only bought eighty-eight bread rolls. She was a little confused and asked how many he had wanted. He showed her the shopping list where it said, ‘100 rolls’. She explained she had written ‘loo rolls’.

I don’t know if this was true, I may have heard it on April 1^st, but it made me chuckle. On thinking about it, I laughed some more. I’m not always so easy to please. My friend and I sat in stony silence on the sofa watching ‘Outnumbered’. To us, there was absolutely nothing funny about the show. Our spouses, sitting on the other sofa, were struggling to draw breath, they were laughing so much.

I have no idea what tickles one person and leaves another cold. I very much enjoy the re-runs of Morecambe and Wise, but have another friend who has never found Eric Morecambe funny. To me, he was the funniest man to have walked this earth.

My husband taught me to laugh after we were married. As a child, we girls were discouraged from laughing loudly. If we did, we were reprimanded for being ‘raucous’ and yet the boys were encouraged to throw back their heads and laugh heartily.

Laughter is joyful and I can never hear too much of it. It doesn’t matter what sets you off. My mother only has to think of her straight-laced grandmother falling in the village pond to make her helpless with laugher, albeit silently.

Laughter is the perfect way to start the day and so I would like to thank whoever told the anecdote about loo rolls. It was a perfect start to my day.

I will leave you with a Tim Vine joke that also makes me laugh.

“Conjunctivitis.com – that’s a site for sore eyes.”

Shoulder to shoulder with Tommy Donbavand - Nicola Morgan

Many of you know that our friend in the children's writing world, Tommy Donbavand, is fighting cancer. Yes, I am using the word "fighting" knowingly. I know that many people rightly take issue with the way we use words like "fight" and battle" in association with cancer but not with other illnesses. It's right to quibble about words - words are important and they reflect and can also define and refine our emotions. But it is the word Tommy uses - and he talks about that here - and, damn it, he can call it whatever he wants and we should call his encounter with cancer a fight if that's what he feels about it. Personally, I don't see any problem with using these words for cancer; the problem is that we don't - and should - use such words for other illnesses that people go through treatment and adjust their lives for.

Anyway, I digress.

I've never met Tommy in person but it's easy to feel you've met him even if you haven't. And I should have met him: he joined the committee of CWIG, the Children's Writers and Illustrators Group of the Society of Authors, back in November. But he wasn't able to make the first committee meeting. And then, cancer struck.

I'm really looking forward to meeting him when he has won this war but he has some beyond-tough battles to go through first. I know that serried ranks of good people, children's writers, readers and a vast army of others, are behind Tommy as he faces this tricksy enemy. I don't know if it's OK to say that we are "shoulder to shoulder" because, however hard we try to understand what it's like, we aren't experiencing what he is experiencing. But I want him to know that we are with him, as much as we can be.

And there are things we can do to help.

1. We can read his blog. It's extraordinarily open, vivid, searing, mind-opening. Important. We can leave comments there, showing our support.

2. We can do our very best to enter that very human and absolutely crucial mind-state of empathy. Reading his blog helps us in that. Reading helps empathy in deep and powerful ways. When writing works - and Tommy is a highly skilled writer, so his would - it allows the reader in some way to experience or mirror the mental state of the writer. That may be painful for a reader, but if we can do it, I think that strikes a powerful blow for humanity.

(Please note: although I'm against the over-use of trigger warnings, I do completely get that some people really may not be in a position to cope with reading about Tommy's treatment and feelings. If you feel you can't, for personal reasons, don't feel bad. You can still do the next two things!)

3. We can spread the word about his TOTALLY brilliant idea: virtual creative writing lessons for schools. As he's said - and as his great friend, Barry Hutchison, explains here - losing his income from schools events and writing workshops has been a massive extra pressure for him and his family, and will continue to be so because the treatment will damage his voice for some time. Schools, this is a huge opportunity for you and I think Tommy's offer is immensely generous. You won't regret it!

4. We might be able to support financially, as Barry explains here.

5. We can help keep him smiling. I chickened out of this yesterday. I had to choose a Get Well card for the CWIG committee to sign. You've no idea the problems my over-thinking, neurotic brain had with this simple task! Many cards are hopelessly trivial and fluffy. Some I felt were too flowery or wishy-washy and old-fashioned. Some talked about feeling "under the weather". Loads had pictures of thermometers in teddy bears' mouths. I wanted one that not only didn't underestimate what Tommy is going through but also reflected his character - or what I believe I know of it from his social media presence. So I bought one I thought would make him laugh. A really silly, bonkers one.

Then ... I chickened out, because I stupidly worried that making him laugh wasn't "appropriate", that it was disrespectful, that it wasn't right if coming from the Society of Authors. So I bought another one, brilliant sunflowers, uplifting, I thought. But not funny. We've signed that and sent it.

But no: forget serious and respectful. How about trying to make him smile? So, here is the one I didn't send:

Go, Tommy! Beat the hell out of the enemy and Get Well Soon!