After all the excitement of America, it’s been a pretty uneventful couple of weeks that leave me with nothing interesting or diverting to say. Those of you who’ve read my books will be familiar with this, of course.
Most of my time is being spent staring out of the window trying to arrange a disorganised jumble of barely-thought-out new book ideas into some sort of pecking order, starting at ‘rubbish’ and descending from there. Oh and I had to get a new mobile phone. Thrilling, huh? The old one stopped working, and I’ve no idea why. After all, it’s not as if I dropped it down the stairs or anything. Oh, hang on, yes I did.
Technology scares me. I mean really scares me. It took me ages to actually get my first mobile phone, and even then I ran from the shop screaming, “it’s witchcraft I tell you, witchcraft!” while the assistant demonstrated what it could do. A talking machine without wires? Come on…
When I went to get my new phone yesterday, the conversation went something like this:
Carphone Warehouse Bloke: “What sort of contract are you on?”
Telephonic Imbecile: “Er, I’m not sure.”
CWB: “What insurance do you have?”
TI: “Er… nope, no idea.”
CWB: “How much are your bills each month?”
TI: “I couldn’t really tell you, to be honest.”
CWB: “Have you ever even heard of Alexander Graham Bell?”
TI: “Didn’t he play centre-half for West Bromwich Albion in the seventies?”
OK, I made the last bit up, but that was about the gist of it. When he’d finally found a phone (which he called a ‘handset’ for some reason) that I wanted (“can I have the same one I had before?” “No, they don’t make those anymore”) he then tried desperately to bung in some free extras. Did I use bluetooth? What? Bluetooth. Er, no, I don’t think so. Did I use the phone in the car? Good grief, no. I barely use a car. Did I use the phone for taking pictures? Eh? Taking pictures? No, I tend to use a camera for that – coincidentally I don’t try and make telephone calls on it either.
In the end he gave me a little leather case that I will never use and I think I bought some insurance. Now most of my phone numbers are missing and all my saved text messages have vanished. So that all went well.
I’ve just had the first proofs through for ‘In Search of Elvis’ – biked to me too, which made me feel dead important – although I’ve not looked at them yet. You can see the snazzy cover here, though.
My clever gallery-owning sister is currently flogging her guts out at the o contemporary stand at the Affordable Art Fair this weekend. If you’re going, give her a wave. Her sales pitch is pretty good – I went to the charity preview night on Thursday and, refreshed by a few glasses of free wine, found myself buying a stencil of a sheep. I saw Jeffrey Archer and Carol Smillie too. Although not together.