The book has finally arrived. I have many envelopes and a trusty pen and they're on their way to those who have pre-ordered. Thank you.

Here's the opening chapter ...

Y O U ' R E
R O B   S N A R S K I

said the young boy staring up at me. He sounded certain, looked slightly puzzled and more than a little disappointed by my existence.

‘Yes, I am. It’s just I’ve gone and grown a moustache and I’m wearing glasses,’ I responded, not exactly sounding sure of myself.

‘No. You’re not Rob Snarski,’ he repeated, convinced I wasn’t me, staring deep past my spectacles.

It was an awkward, perplexing moment and this little kid was making me feel just a tad anxious. Maybe I’m not Rob Snarski …but then again, why am I standing here in the middle of Readings Bookstore, Carlton, with a guitar slung over my shoulder, singing songs from Wounded Bird and Low Fidelity, alongside the travel section, on a makeshift stage whilst everyone else is sampling the free wine and flicking through the CD racks grazing for a new purchase.

After I sang six songs or so, trying to convince myself I was who I thought I was, the boy again came up to me. 'Okay, you are Rob Snarski. Thanks for singing “The Black Caress”, that’s my favourite Then he followed with some quick-fire questions: ‘What’s your favourite song? Who’s your favourite band? Are you your favourite singer?’ Woah, let me have a think about all that.

He told me he liked Queen and ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ was his favourite song of all time (hmm, quite an epic for a lad of ten, I thought). His mother and I then began chatting, discussing the possibility of an acoustic house concert, and before I had the chance to notice, everyone else in the shop who’d come to hear some songs had drifted off into the night and I remained standing there, wondering if I was who I think I am.