Bill Bryson and train lag

If it’s possible to have jetlag from trains, by last Friday I had it, having spent nearly every day on a train journey. Though I suppose that would be train lag.

Molls and I took the train up to see mum in Devon on the Tuesday and spent Wednesday with her, thankfully nowhere near a train. On Thursday I got the 8.30 am train to Paddington and apart from a points failure at Reading, the journey was uneventful. Except, of course, that I was on a rather Tight Schedule and it meant we were 15 minutes late arriving at Paddington.

I therefore had 19 minutes before I was due to meet Bill.

“How long will it take to get to Langham Place?” I said as I threw myself into the taxi.

“Should be about 20 minutes, ma’am,” said the cab driver. (I can only assume he called me Ma’am because I was wearing my Smart (Wedding) Jacket. Normally people call me ‘love’.)

“I’m interviewing Bill Bryson at 12,” I said. “Can you get me there for then?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, and pressed his foot on the gas.

14 minutes later we arrived at the hotel, I shot up in the lift to the top floor, hurtled out of the lift and told the maitre d’ who I was meeting. “He isn’t here,” he said helpfully.

I stared at him, muttering silent expletives and looked around. No Bill. Or no one that looked like Bill, but then I’d never met him before. What did he look like in the flesh? I was just pulling my phone out to ring Polly from Transworld, when she and Bill stepped out of the lift. Phew….

From then on it was fine. He’s a lovely man to interview – very self effacing and ironic. Taller than I expected, and quieter. The sort of voice you could listen to a lot. Very intelligent in an interesting way. Of course we all know about his sense of humour. And he came out with some great one liners – such as, “I wouldn’t like to talk to me!”

All too soon it was over and we said our goodbyes. I hurried into the Ladies and sampled their posh hand cream, made use of their mouthwash (?!) and relished a glimpse of How the Other Half Live. Aren’t I lucky, I thought, to do this for a job. (Not so much fun at the moment as most freelancers I know, including myself, are having rather a Lean Time, but still.)

It was good to go to London, it was a privilege to meet Bill, and apart from a hellish train journey back home, last week was good for me.

Those are the sort of interviews I love doing. Need to try and rustle up a few more….

Lerryn, feverish husband and tumble dryers

Another picture of Fowey - actually Lerryn - as requested by Ellee.

A week of not being at home much due to doing a magazine walk on Monday over at Penwith. A day of rare and glorious autumn sunshine and a very, very muddy walk. “I have to say, this walk is very interesting, but very inadvisable,” Viv said half way round. “I can't believe how un-muddy you are. Were you a goat in a former life?”

That excursion took most of the day as we had to pick up something in Truro on the way home, and today I was supposed to go up to the wilds of St Mabyn to interview an author for another magazine. Unfortunately poor Himself had a flu jab yesterday and has been running a high fever – freezing cold then boiling hot and shaking - since yesterday afternoon. Not much sleep had by yours truly so I will have to rearrange the interview or do it over the phone. I don't want to leave sick husband for 5 hours (which is what the round trip would take).

Talking of poor husband - while in Fowey I decided to do a wash and use their tumble dryer as there was nowhere to hang washing up. I've never used a tumble dryer before, so the drying process was somewhat hit and miss, and all the clothes came out with creases ironed in. Worse than that, Himself only owns two pairs of trousers and the ones I washed – and dried – have lost the will to live. They now hang, lifeless and permanently creased, like a tearful apology. Which I'm afraid he didn't get from me, bearing in mind that defence is the best form of attack.

However, he looked almost as sorry as the poor trousers, wearing them, so I towed him off to Asda and had to buy him another pair. These are Very Smart (his words) and he decided to wear them to the pub last Friday. The next day, he realised that he'd forgotten to give them their first airing.

“I was too tired,” he said when I asked him. “But I felt smart.”

A Girls Weekend, Japanese bloggers - and male authors

This weekend Molls and I are heading off to have a Girls Weekend with my dear friend, Av, who lives in Dorset. (This is Molls on Av's bed last time we met.) Actually we're meeting in Devon which is halfway and hope to see a few of my friends there and also my mum.

Av and I met when we were both going through big life changes – I;d been made redundant, had washed up in Cornwall but couldn't find any work there, so went on to Devon, with a very small measure of confidence and self worth.

Av's marriage had just ended and she was having to work (other than running her ex-husband's business) for the first time in her life. So despite a 10 year age gap (she's a bit older than me) we clicked and have remained steadfast friends ever since.

While I love my husband dearly, it's good to have some time away from each other and taking Molls means we can have some even better walks while we're away. Molls was very taken with Av last time we met – so much so that I began to doubt whether she really wanted to come home with me at all. But as Av's husband is direly allergic to anything with fur, that rather put paid to any notions she (Molls) might have had about swapping mothers.

Secondly - Japanese bloggers. I welcome any (suitable) comments, but given that this blog is written in English, please, if you are going to comment, could you do so in English. If the comments are not suitable, please refrain.

And lastly - I've been doing some more author interviews recently and have been asked to think about male writers.

So today's question is – what male writers would you like to see interviewed?