Okay, more did happen than me stacking it and making my entrance with ripped stockings and a scraped knee, like a seven-year-old (thank you so much Jan for lending me a spare pair of tights*, my legs are covered in bruises anyway from the Demon Puppy!). Incidentally, how much does a scraped knee hurt? It's all scabby and keeps cracking whenever I bend or straighten my knee. Ow. And ew, too, it's disgusting.
Anyway, apart from arriving with chunks of Westminster in my epidermis (oh...I also got lost on the way there. Well, Wesminster Tube has six different exits, and even when I got the right one I turned the wrong way. I didn't think I was meant to be going past the Cenotaph, but it was nice to see it with all the wreaths still there), I did have a very nice time. Great to see all the people I've met before at RNA things, and meet a few more, too. Spoke to a very nice guy from Transworld who assured me they're interested in paranormals and gave me the email of the appropriate editor. Also chatted with Jane Wenham-Jones, who made the eminently sensible suggestion of contacting the agents who gave advice for Wannabe a Writer?, since I also contributed to it. Shiny.
*I think it tells you enough about me that while I'm not the sort of woman who carries a spare pair of tights in her bag, I do carry several different kinds of sticking plaster, along with a roll of microporous tape. Yeah. By the time I finally arrived, having run up and down several flights of stairs to and from the Ladies, my hair had fallen all over the place, my makeup had dissolved and of course, there was the giant plaster on my knee. I think this is the gods' way of telling me I'm just not meant to be sophisticated. Next time, I'll rock up in my ripped jeans--it's much more me.
My pleasure, Kate. It was lovely to see you at the party.
ReplyDeleteHope the battle wounds are easing.