Sunday, 15 April 2012
To celebrate the release of Tony Black's latest novel, Murder Mile, Waterstones, Ayr are hosting Tony in conversation with my good self. Tony and me talking about books - what's not to love?
The date? Friday, 20th April. The time? 7pm.
If you live locally, pop in for an evening of chat and crime and be one of the first to read another bloody good book from one of the country's finest.
Here's the blurb ...
In a cold, windswept field on the outskirts of Edinburgh, lies the brutally mutilated body of a young woman. As DI Rob Brennan looks at the tangled mass of limbs and blood, he feels his heart freeze. Like Fiona Gow five years earlier, this girl has been strangled with her own stockings, sexually mutilated and her eyes have been gouged out. Is this the work of an Edinburgh Ripper? The press certainly think so. Rob Brennan is determined to uncover the truth - however painful that might be. But truth is hard to come by in a world of police rivalries, media hysteria and copycat crime.
Sunday, 1 April 2012
Long time no blog, eh?
Apologies go out to my three regulars. Like you care, really.
Anywho, life has been busy, what with the new job. Yes, I have left the world of finance and I am now employed in the world of books. How cool is that?
My training has involved travelling the length and breadth of the country “shadowing” the guys already in the job and learning from them. Visiting bookshops in the sunshine – great!
Much of the travelling has been by plane. It’s been a while and the increased security searches took me by suprise.
Last week, at one of the London airports I set off the scanner and received a fairly thorough search from a security guy. It’s fair to say that this dude was thorough enough to work out which side I “dressed” and I felt like saying to him that if he was intent on being so intimate, he should at least wear aftershave.
Either that, or he could just give me a quick prostate check while he was at it. D.R.E. I think they call it in the medical profession.
I was reminded of that episode in Friends where one the guys goes to visit Joe’s tailor and complains about “cupping” when he was getting measured for a new pair of trousers. There was no such cupping at the airport, but there was definite nudging.
(Wonder what they do with these young dudes who wear jeans where the crotch hangs down to their knees.)
Just what kind of a b-word (you can't say bomb) am I going to keep there?
Anywho, eventually got home, unpacked and unwound with several cups of spider tea. Is this a new brew, you ask? No, it was simply when I went to fill the kettle for cup number 3, I spotted a rather large spider curled up in the bottom. Yum.
Is this where every woman reading this lets out a scream?
Scream not. This spider was one of the good guys. His name was Tom. He used to be seen scampering across the living room floor of an evening and now he has gone to a watery (and rather warm) end. Still, a gradual boil would have been better than the brain-bashing the wee fella was determined to give him every time he saw him.
Pause now for a wee fella update. He was 14 last month, is now taller than me - and is therefore unhappy about the title “Wee Fella” title. But what should I call him now? Answers on a postcard, please. Or, fill in the comments box.