I’m back home safe, you’ll be pleased to know. Reading at the Edinburgh International Books Festival was Top Banana. And such a beautiful city. I wish I could have stayed longer. The hotel was pretty swish too. There was even a mini-bar, with mini bars of Green and Blacks (the Small Fry was very appreciative of this, and said I should go away for ‘book-fings’ more often.) The booksigning afterwards was also very civilised: someone gave me a box of Shortbread in exchange for a signed book. You can’t say fairer than that, can you?
A Kind of Intimacy got through the first round of voting for the Not the Booker and is now, along with the other five short-listed novels, up for discussion on the Guardian Books blog. If you’ve a burning desire to comment on anything you found interesting, or not – about Annie and her antics, then this is the place to do it.
I love and adore the picture Sam Jordison chose to go with his review. It is almost exactly how I imagine Annie’s new house to look like. All it is missing is her nice row of ornaments on the windowsill and Lucy’s bloody primroses. They’re probably there, behind the hedge.
For now, I’m back to the writing schedule. Next on the list of tasks is a day trip to Morecambe this weekend. I’ve brushed off my cagoule in preparation. I did invite the Mr, but after my last set of day trips to Fleetwood, he’s less than keen. Book number three is going to be set somewhere hot and swanky, I think.