Famous at last! But it’s not to do with writing…damn…I was interviewed by Flight International magazine (UK’s main weekly aviation magazine) so have a quick look at the inside of the back page at:
Unfortunately, it went to print too early to get in a plug for the blog but c’est la vie. I wonder if that’s my fifteen minutes of fame? If so, I want an action replay, please.
I’ve been corresponding with cyberfriend and writer Adele Briskman (‘Deli’ from The Word Cloud) about life, the universe and everything. She’s an accidental Australian and is coming to London next month to take up a teaching position at St Trinian’s so I hope she’s gentle with them. Adele has been following the News of the Screws fiasco and has a prurient interest because Rupert Murdoch was once a bolshie leftie Aussie until he became a red-neck American republican with a mission to decide what kind of government the UK should have. She tells me that we are lucky in UK because we at least have the Guardian, Indie, Times, Telegraph, etc, to offset the red tops (although, of course, the Times is also part of the Empire of Darkness and the less said about Conrad Black the better) because apparently in Oz, they don’t have any such alternatives. Sounds like a good reason to leave the antipodes to me. Actually, I visited Oz a few years ago and had to apply for a visa. The form asked for details of any criminal record. I didn’t know it was still necessary.
After two long weeks, there’s still no news from Peter Buckman about getting my magnum opus into print but I won’t bother him just yet; actually, I would be nervous to hear the details of a process which is, I suspect, as arbitrary as so much in publishing seems to be. I will leave it to the people who know what they’re doing but have started to plan the sequel; the synopsis is now nine pages long and the bad guy (girl, actually) is still ahead. This time I want to have a really water-tight plot before I start writing, then let the characters decide what needs to change. Leaky plots are difficult to rectify afterwards but I hope that the resulting novel isn’t too formulaic. Actually, I don’t think that the characters would allow me to do that and I rarely have much say in the matter.
Puggie is still doing well and Luis has discovered that his cat allergy has mysteriously vanished. Bizarrely, the dogs love him as well, although they hate cats. A word of explanation: a cat is a thing of a certain size that sits on walls, makes hissing noises and darts off if you bark at it. Puggie is much smaller than cat, doesn’t sit on walls, makes little squeaky noises and doesn’t run; he rolls over to have his tummy licked. Ergo, he is not a cat. So, I think we have all decided that Puggie is a keeper. He’s too small to eat in any case.