It was also the weekend of the Northern launch of The boy Who Fell Down Exit 43 and as I couldn't get to the London one, I decided to trundle down to Eccleshall Library in darkest Staffordshire and get the lovely Harriet Goodwin to sign my copy. Of course I forgot my camera, as usual.
There were crowds of people there and they sold out of books. Fortunately, I had remembered to buy one before hand. As I stood in the queue, I felt a bit odd really. One: because I hadn't warned Harriet that I was coming down to see her and we hadn't actually met before. Two: because I was watching the whole thing and thinking, "this'll be me next year!"
The Greenhouse Agency has quite a close family feel to it and so I wasn't surprised to be greeted like a long-lost friend. I was so glad I took myself down there!
The next leg of my journey took me South West a bit to a village in Worcestershire where I was playing at a wedding.
As we played, I watched the bride settle herself on a bale of straw. She in turn watched the dancers. So content, so happy. A perfect day and it started me thinking about Harriet's launch and book launches in general.
Are they like weddings? or christenings? What kind of celebration are they? Goodwife reckoned they're more akin to weddings and the author is the father of the bride, giving away his prized possession. What d'you reckon?