Well, I'm home after a wonderful few days in Harrogate. The Festival was excellent, the panels were great, the evening events were fun...but most of all, the company was top class and I had much much fun and many laughs. Some random brief highlights, thoughts and comments:
I was SO chuffed to see Al win the Theakstons. It was a really strong field and any one of them deserved the prize, but, man, I was so thrilled for Al. And he was the only one that I would (and did) shed a few tears for when he won.
On other Al related news, over lunch the much respected critic and bench sleeper (I am unable to divulge who this was, but careful readers may solve the cleverly and seamlessly inserted clue a little later) described HARD MAN as "Monty Python meets the Coen Brothers" which we all thought was rather nifty.
Russel McLean, sporting a very fetching new non facial hair look, was discovered on a bench on Friday morning, wrapped in newspaper and intoning in incomprehensible Dundonian "Can you spare the price of a pint of Special Brew, hen."
Next big thing in crime fiction sub-sub-genres...Plumbing Noir...with aardvaark sidekick (he's brave, foolhardy, and he can unblock your u-bend).
Kevin "The Suite" Wignall. Having exchanged e-mails with Kevin (who is taller than his author photo by the way) over a number of years, I was really looking forward to meeting him. And my first in person introduction to Kevin (who is fairer than his author photo by the way) were the immortal words "There are people in my suite." I was about to congratulate him, thinking that these were people he had specially ordered, until I realised it was a look of outrage on his face. My second meeting with Kevin (who is slimmer than his author photo by the way) he had even more suite-related problems relating specifically to the number of rooms involved. Top bloke and great drinking companion. Looks bugger all like his author photo though.
I am most definitely taking crutches with me on every train trip I make in the future. I didn't have to lift my suitcase on or off a train once.
I bought too many books. One guy who hoisted my suitcase onto the train said "Bloody hell lass, you got a dead body in here?" as he walked off, limping and groaning.
Thanks to Crimespace for introducing me to my two new friends Jools and Vincent. Jools managed to put up with me for an inordinate number of hours and deserves a medal. Vincent just had the look of a startled faun whenever I loomed into view but humoured me patiently.
I had my hair stroked by a small pervert. The same bloke accosted me the next night and we had the following conversation:
Him: "Do you like books?"
Me: "Errrrrr...yes" (helllllllllooooooooooo...this WAS a book festival after all)
Him: "Do you like films?"
Me: "Errrrr...yes."
Him: "Do you like FOREIGN films?"
Me (very cautiously, since I wasn't sure whether the next thing was going to be an invitation to his room to view his vast collection of Scandinavian porn) "Errrrr...some."
Him: "Do you like ITALIAN foreign films?"
Me: "Errrrr...I'm not sure I've seen that many." And, before he could narrow the questions down more "Do you like southern Italian foreign films directed by Zefirelli and made in June 1954 featuring Sophia Loren, an armadillo and a model of the Leaning Tower of Pisa made of peperoni pizza?" I said "Jools, look at the time, we'd bettter go now. It was lovely to meet you."
Jools (under her breath): You bloody little liar
Him: "We will chat again later."
Me: (under my breath) "Will we shite"
We had a discussion about famous last words and how the modern way will probably be to e-mail or text them. I informed Jools that if she ever got a text from me saying "I wish I'd bought more shoes", she should nip out and buy a new little black number and cry inconsolably for fifteen days. When I texted her that very phrase just a mere 24 hours later, her immediate thought was that she had to find a new dinner companion. I shall say nothing more on the matter. A girl knows who her friends are...
The wedding of Mr and Mrs Money (talk about marrying into money...) that took over the bar on Saturday, and which more than one festival attendee thought was a specially laid on murder mystery theatre thing.
The taxi driver who asked me why I liked "All that dirty stuff", and whether I wrote it.
Deciding that Martin Waites was the sensible older brother of Al Guthrie and Russel McLean (and gawd help you if Martin is the sensible one in your party.)
Lee Child's story about his Granada TV days.
Natasha Cooper telling about doing a 'sleepover' at Brixton Prison, and the subsequent discussion amongst the panel.
Michael Marshall becoming more and more scared of Zoe Sharp.
Brown bread ice cream sundae at Betty's tea room.
Getting to cuddle my wee niece.
A wonderful weekend. Thanks to everyone for making it so grand. And now, I am going to bed. Goodnight.
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