It's always late, I'm always tired...

[desperance]

...but I still get to have days like this sometimes, days with friends. New and old.

The various histories are far too complicated to cover here (I just tried, got halfway through the first paragraph and deleted same, as being both incomprehensible and meaningless in completely different directions), but I met my old friend Bronwen (whom I have not seen for, ooh, this many a year, on account of her bad habit of living in Egypt, except that I bumped into her in town last week just the day after I'd been talking about her and so learned that she was back in N'cle) and her friend Mary at the railway station this morning, and we caught a train to Edinburgh. Where we were met by my young friend Ruth (with whom I had been talking about Bronwen, etc) and her mum Carol (with whom I shared a house when I first came to Newcastle twenty-five years ago, and whom I have not seen for, ooh, even longer than Bronwen, on account of her bad habit of living in Bilbao) and Carol's two boys Andres and Ricardo. And then we all went for lunch with Carol's mum Sheila, whom I have not seen etc etc, and Bronwen's partner Chris. And we mooched, and I phoned Ian Rankin a couple of times and entirely failed to link up with him, but never mind; and it was just generally an easy, happy day, full of nost without the algia. Water of Leith, Botanic Gardens, that sort of day. Catching up and nattering, to a background of romping boys (twelve & ten, and Spanish kids stay kids for longer than English kids do, evidently; it was fun).

And then I came home, and Barry was very pleased to see me but hasn't eaten his tea, which disturbs me excessively, because he has not done that since his first weeks here; but there was a copy of the Year's Best Fantasy & Horror 19 waiting on the doormat, including my story "Going the Jerusalem Mile" from The Third Alternative, which makes me a happy shiny person; and I was in time to catch a rerun of the first episode of the BBC version of "Tinker Taylor Soldier Spy", which seems set fair to be as powerful, as echoing, as - oh, as written as I remember, which is a good thing in all directions.

Comments

[autopope.livejournal.com]

What, you were in Edinburgh and you didn't ping me?

[desperance.livejournal.com]

S'true, I am a bad person. It's all these long and tangled histories; trying to keep them sorted - and introduce Rankin to the muddle - was enough for me. Or, in the event, a little too much.

Next time, I swear it...

[desayunoencama.livejournal.com]

Sounds like a nice day, even if it's left you exhausted afterwards.

And nice on the Year's Best copy waiting for you. Always nice. :-)