My name is
Thomas Wilbur Johannas Harold Jones.
But, please, call me Tom.
Everyone else does,
except Dad
who calls me Thomas
because he says Tom
is what you call a stray cat,
and Mum
who calls me Darling,
or Sweetie,
or if I do something wrong, Honey.
(Now you know what I mean
about dead parents.)
I live in a big brick home
in a new suburb
called Pacific Palms.
Between us and the Ocean
are five suburbs -
Pacific Meadows
Pacific Green
Pacific Heights
Pacific Crescent
and, of course,
Pacific Beach.
Tom Jones saves the world is a verse-novel for children.

Dumb things become important when you're old. At least that's what Tom reckons: like living in a gated community, filling the three spare rooms with a bottle top collection and or secretly belly dancing while everyone's out.

When Tom meets Cleo the snake charmer, together they break-out, discover a bull that hasn't become a hamburger, visit Tom's grandfather and catch and boil yabbies by Murchison Creek.

tom jones saves the world - UQP 2002

shortlisted - CBCA book of the year 2003
(younger readers)
shortlisted - Children's Literature Peace Prize 2003
Because of our name
every house has a palm tree
planted smack-bang
in the middle of the frontyard.
There are no other trees.
Everyone has planted
shrubs instead.
Thatís all Mum
and Mrs Johnson next door
talk about.
"Your camellias are looking lovely, dear."
"Why thank you, Mrs Johnson.
And so are yours."
Dead Parent Wish # 1

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