I have to confess that I’ve not really been looking forward to today on a couple of fronts. One – today was the day when the Press & Journal finally got round to reviewing the book. The P&J, for those of you not in the know about such things, are huge in the North East of Scotland. Not only that, they actually feature in the book, so I’ve been looking at their silence on the whole Cold Granite front as being less than a good sign. Thankfully though, they’ve come through with a four star review that doesn’t call me a talentless hack. On the odder side the book doesn’t feature on their ‘Scottish bestseller list’, even though their sister paper apparently has the thing sitting at number one. Mind you, the P&J uses Waterstones for its data, and the Evening Express gets its info from Ottakar’s, so maybe that explains it.
Two – today was the day of the ‘Big Computer Switchover’. This is down to INoGITCH asking for their laptop back, being as I’m on a leave of absence and therefore not actually using the thing for business purposes. Don’t suppose I can complain really, I’ve had the thing for over a month and very useful it’s been too. Far too useful to tell the truth; I’ve not been looking forward to doing without my little portable buddy. Writing on trains and planes, editing in hotel rooms, or reception areas. Sigh… So, today Brother Christopher came round to help install the various bits and bobs that my steam-driven old desktop would need to run properly. Christopher and I usually have an ‘exciting’ time when it comes to fiddling about in the gunnels of my computer, the sort of excitement that comes from unexpected squonking noises, sudden flashes of sparks, wisps of burning-plastic smoke. You get the picture. But this time: nothing. Everything seems to be working – touch wood – though it may be too soon to get complacent. To be honest the only frightening thing that happened was watching Kim (Christopher’s wife and incubator for his DNA parasite) eating chicken wings with a knife and fork. Nowt as queer as fowk, and all that.
Trouble is, even though the desktop machine is now all singing and internet-ish I know I’m going to miss my little laptop of joy. No more wandering out onto the veranda to expose my ‘lack of moral core’ to the world at large when it’s sunny… From now on I’m tethered to my desk, unless I can knock off an elderly relative and come up with enough of an inheritance to buy one myself.
I wonder where I put that copy of ‘Kind Hearts and Coronets’?