I’m writing this in that neverworld of an airport waiting for a slightly delayed plane.
And, of course, as it always is, that airport is Heathrow. I hate Heathrow. I’ve always hated Heathrow. Even as a kid, I remember the sensation of life ebbing away from you as you sit in uncomfortable chairs next to grumpy people, eat dreadful food and get annoyed with snooty staff. It’s Heathrow, it’s British Airways, it’s delayed, and I’m flying economy, seat 49J, which means no sleep, cramped legs, and an incredibly frustrating effort trying to do work on my laptop for the next nine hours.Blog Read More
I’ve just been sent this pic by my mate Ross who snapped it with his phone at WHSmith in Heathrow airport. It shows my book resting at number 12 in the Business and Management section. Obviously there’s been some terrible error and the staff has mistakenly put it as “12” rather than both “1” and “2” as was surely intended, but that pleasing, ain’t it?
I have yet to see my book in the real world in a bookstore. I’m looking forward to it. I can’t help but think now of all the times I have scanned the book shelves of the newsagents in Heathrow pondering whether to buy a book or a newspaper – and usually just bought the newspaper. I wonder if each of the books in the paper has seen each author go through the same sort of process/journey/whatever I have. Anyway, with luck, I shall manage to bump up the charts once a few reviews come in (I am assuming of course that reviews *will* come in and that they’ll like it).Blog Read More