Winter is coming, in Europe. Kids are carving Halloween pumpkins and scrawling overly-optimistic crayoned notes to Santa. And all over the place, badgers are struggling into their striped wooly pyjamas, snuffling into their sleeping bags, and forgetting to set the alarm-clock.
Also, hedgehogs. And probably bears. And no doubt other critters you can find on Google 'coz I can't be bothered.
Not forgetting Tardigrades, by the way, because you'll almost certainly have to look 'em up. They're great fun.

And for the life of me, I can't recall how I meandered down this path. Have you ever wandered into a room and wondered why?

...OK, got it. Hibernation. To cut to the chase, we won't be having a WPA judging in 2009. This doesn't mean we will never have another go at it; just that experience and all our research tells us that next year's awards-budgets are likely to be cut with giant scythes, and that the WPAs are unlikely to be at the front of the line when the parachutes are handed out. (Sorry...a hopelessly mixed but somehow satisfying pair of metaphors).

The World Press Awards were never intended to be a money-making proposition. If we'd wanted an income, we'd have called it the World Press and Poster Awards, and thereby doubled the entries. No doubt in time it would have evolved into The World Press, Poster, Shelf-Wobbler, and Things-That-Get-Shoved-Under-Doors Awards, and we could operate from a yacht in The Turks and Caicos.
But no. At its most honourable, it's a Quixotic quest. Born of the belief that Press is still the most effective single medium if used properly, and with masses of research facts and audience figures to back that up. But against the proliferation of exciting 'new' media that so attracted the marginally-talented and bewildered it was always going to be a tough track to trot.

To this we really must add the boundless apathy of the media-owners. I'll personally accept the blame for believing that these old dears would see us as their saviours, and leap from their Zimmer-frames to sponsor our efforts on their behalf. To describe their reaction as 'muted' is like saying that a dead horse tends not to show much enthusiasm when offered a lump of sugar. One denizen from the top of the publishing tree asked testily why anyone would want to give awards to journalists. This, I promise you, from a man whose vast fortune was built on the advertising about which he seems to be ignorant. Hmmm.

So, even though financial break-even would have been nice, we can't invest even more at a time when it's deeply unlikely that our entries will increase at all. Most importantly, you should know that our figures would have been worse were it not for the astonishing generosity and goodwill of our juries. Above all, that has been a revelation. It has always seemed to me that the best people are also the nicest; now I know that the very best are even more passionate and committed than I am myself. And, after all, I'm nuts.

Just before we go into our period of hibernation, then, a word to all our entrants. The business is richer for your skill and, even more, your determination to avoid the trite. Our calling is in good hands, despite the efforts of the geniuses who handle our money. When the dust settles, we're going to see some astounding work from a newly motivated generation.

When that happens, we intend to be around again, to recognize the best.

Hasta luego.

Neil French