Tuesday, June 12, 2007
today herself went to lunch with a famous author. he is interested in all sorts of shady stuff. he is planning to write a book about dodgy people. as herself and her colleagues come across quite a lot of dodgy people they may be able to help.
regular readers will recall that herself wrote a book while she was on holiday. the original plan was that the book would be a joint venture, with each person writing their bit from the point of view of a character they had invented. however none of the fellow holiday-makers had the slightest intention of getting involved in this hair-brained scheme so herself knuckled down and wrote the book on her own.
the fellow holiday-makers did not escape entirely. every time one of them opened their mouth herself piped up "that'll be fantastic for the book!" so at the beginning, while most books have a little bit saying "any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental", herself's book has a little bit at the beginning saying "any resemblance to any person or dog is entirely deliberate. the author is too lazy to waste time inventing characters." i suppose people are used to being blog-fodder. book-fodder is just more of the same.
i managed to persuade her to take me along to meet the famous author. i told her that i was interested in seeing east sussex and that we could go for a walk before lunch. but this was just a ruse. i was hoping that if i was charming enough i might get a bit part in a book. herself has put me in her book but to be honest no-one will ever read it so it doesn't count. i have made it clear that she is not to give up the day job.
we went for a walk around the grounds of a big posh house and then went into the pub where we were meeting the famous author. at this point herself realised that she did not know what the famous author looked like. it would have been straightforward for her to purchase a red rose to wear in her buttonhole, or carry one of the famous author's books, or indeed for her to have mentioned that she would have a hairy companion. but that might have required thinking ahead which is not something herself engages in. luckily the bar person knew the famous author so all was well.
we sat outside, next to 3 very fat labradors whose panting did nothing to help with the clamminess. later a very sweet puppy arrived. she can be seen in the picture above. the conversation turned to how proper authors develop characters in their books. (herself had confessed that she had stolen the souls of her friends and family for her book). it seems proper authors sometimes base characters on folks they know too. the famous author explained that he would, for example, perhaps use someone's physical description but then give them a different job. "i might make you a brain surgeon, or a police officer or something."
"you'd have to make me thinner!" said herself. i was more concerned about the thought of someone as easily distracted as she is being allowed anywhere near an operating theatre. i could just see her wandering off to put up a shelf in the middle of a tricky procedure.
the famous author asked herself about a typical day. regular readers will know that these are few and far between. herself tried to describe what she gets up to at work. but she wandered off the point and told the famous author about the flying monkeys instead. herself has persuaded her colleagues that it is a good idea to have flying monkey battles in the office. they have 6 of these little chaps. the trouble is at any one time someone will be on the phone, or on the radio to someone. a lot of the conversations are about serious stuff. suddenly a flying monkey will land on their head, making them want to laugh. it can be a bit tricky explaining what the noise is. one of the colleagues was heard to say on the telephone the other day, "oh, its just a flying monkey. so, anyway, back to the machete incident..."
when we got home, himself asked about lunch. "did you tell him how you have been glued to one or other of his books for the past month and we haven't been able to get any sense out of you?" "oh no," said herself, "famous authors must get sick of people raving about their books. i didn't want to sound like a starstruck groupie!"
it seems the famous author may be visiting the office in the autumn. herself failed to mention the other toys. wait till he sees the battery operated noo-noo...