Jonty Claypole

Sophie, have you ever seen a wombat in the wild?

Well, I wasn't necessarily expecting you to have a wombat encounter because one of the things I've been struck by since moving here to Australia is how many Australians have never seen a wombat in the wild.

So I feel very privileged as a blow in, as a blow in to have had a wombat experience.

That's wonderful.

Last year, I went with the family to Kangaroo Valley.

And one night, as we were coming out of a restaurant, there was a wombat.

And it was the most beautiful creature I've ever seen.

Prior to that moment, my favorite animal, whenever anyone asked, admittedly, mostly my children.

I mean, adults don't tend to ask what my favorite animal is.

But whenever my children asked my favourite animal, I'd always say elephant.

And since then, it's been the wombat because it was so delightful and sweet and it was bumbling around in the darkness.

Just this huge ball of fur.

We were very smitten with it.

The reason why we're talking about wombats, of course, is that they not only appear in today's poem, but they stalk the life of the poet as well, don't they?

Wombats are going to feature very heavily.

And I am Jonty Claypole.

I am full of airs and graces, pulling wry faces, demure grimaces, cat-like and rat-like, rattle and wombat-like, snail-paced in a hurry.

I am a goblin, Sophie.

Yes, it's a sort of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation tutorial mixed with a porn site.

It's just truly bizarre.