Rob Cowan,(journalist who shared my cab (£50) ) Gabriel Gbadamosi (brainy chair of my debate). Rob’s good looking mate, who is in the military, and I spoke on a platform seated on a very cosy chintz chair at HowTheLightGetsIn Festival (The title comes from Leonard Cohen but I didn’t know that and it didn’t stop me from attending).
The venue for the lovely event, Globe Hall, had an old pulpit at one end and filmed footage of the sea to look at on the side wall if one's mind dared to wander. Mine was firmly gripped into place as I had to offer views on ‘In an age of self publishing how essential is writing to individuality?’ among other punishing conundrums.
Then there was cider in huge great bottles that were handed over the bar top as if they were bottles of wine. 'All for moi?' I asked, before anyone could say ‘No they have to be shared you greedy old person’ and the afternoon tipped by in a rainy haze of other intelligent people watching.
The folk who turned out to my talk at the Hay Festival were consistently smiley with a lot of rain wear between them but at least there were a few questions – and not just about where I got my highlights done. I like to be interactive when it’s a small crowd and ask questions. One bright attendee suggested that ‘paedophile’ might be a suitable suggestion for a three syllable word which although correct, was a surprise. I thanked her and moved on. Always nice to get ‘input’ from the floor.
|This is me trying to look like Joanna Trollope at my book signing|
|And this is me not looking like her at all|
|A sign about a sign|
|This is me with a young poet Luke Wright who has an ironic look about him - we are signalling something implied to be in keeping with the philosophy of ideas theme|
Preparing for my WI talk somewhere in Manchester next. Wonder if I’ll get scones? I bloody hope so