Yup, the day has finally arrived for me to come out of the author-shaped closet and announce, “I’m here, I’m published: get used to it!”
The birthday tree is up – note the huge pile of present (singular) under the tree – as are both cards, so the whole place has taken on a festive birthday air. Hurrah! And we prepared all the party food last night: chocolate crispies, teeny sausage rolls, huge mounds of jelly, ice cream, crisps (both crunchy stick and cheesy puffs) and assorted other thingies; we even jointed the chicken wings – everything’s ready to chuck into the oven; so there’s no reason to get all stressed out today. Other than the fact that I’ve STILL not done any bloody text for the bloody website. But we are now ready to Party On Down like the wild young things we are, contrary to comments from certain cheeky buggers.
Yesterday was pretty much consumed with a major house tidying and preparing all that food. And the small gap I had in the middle was spent answering questions for an interview with the book club. Now this is the first interview thing I’ve ever done in my entire life – not counting local press things for a variety of small productions which weren’t about getting published and so don’t count for the purposes of this rambling monologue – and although a bit daunting in places where I had to explain what the hell I thought I was doing, it was an interesting experience. Hopefully I’ve not come across as a conceited arse, or a bumbling buffoon, but knowing me it’ll probably be one or the other.
Right, enough of this: I’m off to see what Dilbert and Get Fuzzy are up to. And if I’m not totally rat-arsed after the party – it’s a lunch thing, so there’s always a slim chance of sobriety – I’ll let you know how it went. Posting pished is never a good idea.