Dad was mending a plug when suddenly he fell, seemingly in slow motion, and started writhing around making these terrible noises. It went on and on: we didn't know what to do . . . and then he was just lying there: this great, god-like figure on the floor, amid this scene of total devastation. I'd thought he was invincible. And I'd just started to rebel against him; we'd only just begun to argue ..."For years afterwards, it's possible to read [Anthony] Browne's books as one long answering-back: a means of carrying on the barely begun argument beyond the grave.
from Sarah Crown: The Guardian: A life in books: Anthony Browne
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