Post-Frankfurt Lurgee

Tuesday, October 16th, 2018

This week’s playlist:

In the Heat of the Morning – David Bowie
No Man’s Land – Billy Joel
Hunting High and Low – A-ha
Estranged – Guns N’ Roses
Freak – Lana Del Rey

You can’t imagine the sheer delight coursing through me as I type, a giddy anticipation brought on by the first tell-tale crinkles around the back of the mouth that might adumbrate the arrival of what can only be described as “a bit of a cold”. Some people get like this about the arrival of Advent or the start of the new football season. I’m sat here having a hot toddy, there’s a packet of Lockets in the kitchen and I am all set. Bring it on!

Let me prod you towards two great podcasts: the always fascinating Film Stories with Simon Brew, and Stalking Time For the Moon Boys with David Baddiel and Tim Hincks. This week the Bowie chat (and don’t worry, they veer off of their thin, white topic from time to time) touched upon the Bowie at the Beeb¬†double album, which I’ve written about in a book that might get published one day. It’s great, that album.

I had hoped to write a little postcard from Frankfurt last week, but sadly I was just too busy, with one thing and another, so sorry for that. All of publishing gathers in Frankfurt in October to talk about books, sell books, drink irresponsibly, meet up with friends and piss about in taxis at three a.m. It was a week of sausages, hotel breakfasts and pizzas, coupled with a truly bizarre restaurant meal which involved pinky-purple risotto which frankly scared a lot of publishing’s finest. At the airport on Sunday, in what must surely have been a moment of madness, I almost bought a presentation set of wurst. It contained two tins of dodgy pork¬†(with, I’m guessing, a “street” value of about three euro) and a little jar of mustard. However the illustrated packaging, showing Frankfurt at its jaunty best, and the golden cord “handle” almost justified the twenty euro asking price. At least, it did until I came to my senses.

Maybe next week I’ll send you a postcard from Norfolk. I have a bit of a family holiday, which I’ll be spending by “writing” to avoid spending too much time in the company of my (lovely, but) extremely exhausting nephews. I’m still trying to get a fix on this elusive Sparrow I want to tell you about (well: more about, if you’ve already read Winterhill: Dead Men Walking then you’ve already met her) and her two friends, L4lique and Hoban. There’s little more to say about that, at least for now.

Be well, everyone, and give your cats a hug from me. My cat, Florence, is giving me right evils. I’d better go and feed her again…

Iain Xx

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