THERE was a wonderful show of support for Claire Throssell last Friday in Penistone among her people and she didn’t stop signing books for the whole two hours plus.

But what a beautiful venue to hold her event in. I pass ‘All is Good’ every week when we go and do the big shop, because it’s on the roundabout before the Tesco, but I’d never imagined it to be so huge inside – like a TARDIS – and lovely and crammed full of gifts and foods and oh my the café!

But the really impressive thing is the community spirit which sits within the walls like a sweet scent, because they support lots of artisan crafters who have all their things there on the shelves for sale.

I was overjoyed to be at Claire’s big do, but what an unexpected bonus to be introduced to such a gorgeous place.

Big question I asked: do you do baked spuds? Answer: yes. Then that’s my custom assured. See you soon, ladies.

My new book will be out next week.

It’s a festive little number and because I like to look after my locals, if you buy it from the Book Vault in Barnsley there will be extras with it.

You can ring them and reserve a copy, get it personalised but the merchandise won’t last forever and it’s first come first served. Hope to see some of you there at the shop next Saturday (25th) 9.30-11.30am. Thank you, as always, for your support from myself and the Book Vault.

My jaw hit the floor last week to see on the front cover of the Chron that one of two boys who have been found guilty of rape was only twelve years old.

At twelve I was still playing with Fuzzy Felt. Sex was years away, innocence was still my default place.

This age has a lot to answer to, the monstrous internet which is a beast set out of a cage that can never be put back in, allowing sexual images to be seen by children, exposing them to all that before their minds are ready for it, warping them.

But in schools, teachers cannot discipline children without violating their human rights, or whatever the policy is, and so if they aren’t learning how to behave at home, taught right from wrong, manners, how to respect, then they aren’t learning boundaries and that’s not going to help them as adults.

It’s not even helping them as pre-teens!

I read in the paper at the weekend about a bloke in a band whose child has ‘some sort of condition’ where they can’t ever be told off because the anxiety a rollocking brings causes them stress. I think my eyebrows are still lodged in the kitchen ceiling. And this is the age of progress, is it?

I think the town will do Dickie proud on Sunday.

The press coverage will be worldwide as befits his stature and the turn out will be spectacular. He deserves it, he has served us well over many years, never changing, never trying to distance himself like some do, pretending they’re from a picturesque little fishing village near Harrogate rather than admit they come from here.

I’ll be shooting up from Bournemouth for it and praying the trains behave as I can’t get out of the reason why I’ll be there the night before and I want to say goodbye to my old friend in person. I hope his family are all right, because his sister and his niece are grieving the dear man they knew for a very long time.

We may think he belonged to us, but he was theirs most of all.