MY FIRST OUTING!

Well. I was let out last night, taken out of my box, and driven all the way into Brighton! Oooh it's a scary place.

My writer was one of the judges at a short story slam event at the Komedia, put on by Short Fuse.

She had to kick start the event with a reading, and she chose something out of my pages! I was so proud, I can tell you! She read two flashes from a story called Closed Doors.

And people clapped! It was lovely. Then she put me on a table while she listened to twelve stories read out and I think I had some Budweiser dripped on me at one point.

What DOES she think she's doing? Think's she owns me, I expect... huh.

Actually, I quite liked the Budweiser. And the stories, some of them. The winner was really great... she won the Small Wonder Festival Slam too, last autumn. Gosh I was tired when we got home.

Its all very well being born, but all this activity is a bit much so soon.

The Strange Case of the Boxes in the Hallway...

"Watson?"

"Yes, Holmes?"

"Watson, did we find the drinks cabinet?"

"I'm afraid not. That will remain a total..."

"...mystery. Thank you Watson. I have the good lines."

"May I ask what that is on your head, Holmes?"

"It is a bandage, Watson."

"Ah."

"Precisely. Some confounded idiot left a load of boxes in the vestibule."

"Ah"

"And I fell over them. However..."

"...however?"

"I am assured that I will recover fairly quickly and will only require calf's foot jelly in the afternoons for a week. No more."

......


"Watson?"

"Yes?"

"Where are you going?"

"To catch a calf, Holmes."

"A what?"

"A calf. So I can remove it's feet, to make ..."

"...calf's foot jelly. Right. get to it. But before you leave..."


"Yes?"

"Pass me something to read, will you?"

"One of these? I found them on the floor of the vestibule...they seem to have come out of those boxes you fell over."

"Have to do, I suppose. Fetch my monocle, Watson. What is the title? Who's written the thing?"

"Words from a Glass Bubble. By someone calling herself Vanessa Gebbie."

"A bloody woman? Forget it, Watson, bring me The Times.... and Watson?"

"Holmes?"

Hurry up with that calf..."



.

The Strange Case of the Disappearing Books...

"Watson," said Holmes, "bring me my violin. I feel a need for melancholia. And a small glass of claret."

"Ah."

"Ah? A simple request, I believe, Watson. My violin. Nothing to shake Baker Street's foundation, my friend."

"The claret, Holmes. Why not concentrate on the claret?"

"That will not do at all, Watson. Prior to claret, I must have melancholia. I need high, mournful notes, minor keys, the distant wail of a child in distress..."

"No can do, Holmes."

"What sort of futuristic language is that? And do I sense a mystery? has my violin gone missing? Never fear. We shall examine every square inch of the house, leave no corner unsearched..."

"No, not your violin, Holmes. Your books. The entire library... and the drinks cabinet..."

"Not the claret?"

I'm afraid so, and you recall I have no doubt that your pipe rack was on the cabinet..."

"What! Gone, my pipes? Call a bloody detective!"

---------------------

Which is, in a roundabout way, saying that yesterday, my books were delivered to Jen In Great Wilbraham, and somewhere between Great Wilbraham and Ringmer, there is a lorry parked up with the driver deep in a book.

It's THAT good folks!

Numbers creeping up...

We are now at 85 for the launch party...still waiting for lots of replies... and are struggling with the logistics of carting me, husband, wine, books, friends, up to London in a small Golf.

Between the covers!!

Hilarious things happen...

I've had some lovely people pre-ordering the book, giving me a cheque.

One was popped though the door yesterday from a squash partner of the husband. The accompanying note said: 'I am very much looking forward to climbing between your covers...'


hmmm.

A week today?

It's possible that a week today I will have boxes delivered full of my book.

I can't quite... you know... (she said with the ultimate in her articulate toolkit...)

Launch list going well. Son's godmother Jane coming from deepest Wales (my oldest friend, who has never met her godson. Well that will be interesting. He's coming up 30...)

Sue Booth Forbes from Anam Cara Writers' and Artist's Retreat coming on her way back to Ireland from the USA. ( work that out for me someone)

Tania is coming from Israel (yes, I know... not only for this, she is reading at several UK events...)

Fictionbitch and bloke!

Some party. ...

Conversations, conversations

I spoke to an organiser at Cancer Research yesterday, inviting him to the launch party. All royalties from this book are going to them, (I lost my mother 17 years back to cancer, and my friend Jan to whom the book is dedicated died just over a year back, and since then three good friends have gone, all in their early sixties....)

I can't do much, but this I CAN!

Besides which it was Jan who said "Writing is your gift. Use it," or words to that effect. And I am, as much as I can. I often wonder if I'd have given up during the down patches over the last few years if it wasn't for her positive take on things even when she was seriously ill.

So.


Launch part admin going well so far. Fifty three coming... still waiting for lots and lots of RSVPs.