The man beside me was drawing pictures. With a pencil. He was good. Okay, better than good – Chris Riddell was nerpy. Teachers and kids crowded his table, each one aching to be the next portrait.

Vivian, a woman with sharp cheekbones, was his current work, complete with wavy hair that Chris depicted in a swoop, nattering to Vivian as if art was no more than swabbing a bench.

After Vivian came Rachel. After Rachel, Maria. After Maria, I lost track. But Chris was one popular illustrator, gifted as he was nonchalant. And yes, the female of the species seemed more equal than others when it came to cynosures.

But who could begrudge England's Children's Laureate, an avuncular charmer whose work has enriched the words of Neil Gaiman, Lewis Carroll and the Human Rights Act (for children)? Indeed, this Perth week was all about kids, stirring them to think, to read and draw, to treat words as their accomplices.

The latter task was my portfolio, the reason I'd joined Scribblers Festival in the far west, along with the British doodler extraordinaire. After Maria, Chris had no more paper. So he reached for the nearest foolscap and hesitated. There on the page were 16 words he'd never seen before.