So this hasn’t been the best of weeks. Not much in the way of writing has been done. Although I did go to the Orion Author Party at the V&A last night, complete with pre and post-party drinks at a nearby pub with several other boozy authors. The location was glitzy and beautiful as usual – and I really love that big squiggly thing that hangs down from the ceiling. Someone (I can’t remember who) said that it looks a bit like an evil balloon – which it kind of does. Perhaps that’s why I like it so much.
There was also the usual free-flowing champagne. The only problem with that was that I haven’t really eaten anything much over the last two weeks as one of my dogs became very ill with cancer, and died the day before the party. This was easily one of the worst days of my life – but I suppose that’s the price you pay for having one of the best dogs ever. It does turn out, though, that if you haven’t been eating, you can’t hold your drink as well as you normally can. I’m fairly sure I told both Suzanne McLeod and Jon Weir that I loved them during the course of the evening. This isn’t really too much of a problem as I do rather love Suzanne and Jon, because they’re both so flippin’ cool. I just hope I didn’t profess my love to anyone else. Total strangers, for instance; or dodgy looking men in back alleys; baffled reviewers; worried-looking agents; harassed waiters . . . But it was certainly nice to have a night of fun in the middle of a week of utter crap. And – once again – Mr Devereux and I were the last ones standing. I simply can’t get over what a load of lightweights all these other authors are! What’s with all this responsible grown-up stuff, eh? Eh? Now, more than ever, I can’t wait for Eastercon! And the all-night drinking and partying and misbehaving and silliness!
But for now I am simply looking forward to going to Florida on Saturday. After the week I’ve just had I don’t think I’ve ever been more in need of ten days of Mickey Mouses, roller coasters, sunshine and American junk food. Lots and lots of American junk food, actually, because with the amount of weight I’ve lost this week, none of my jeans fit me anymore and I really don’t want to have to spend more hard-earnt money buying new ones. Not when I could be spending it on buying as many Mickeys as will possibly fit into my suitcase . . .