Thursday January 19th.
Ah, it seems
some time since I wrote. I have, in
mitigation, been busy – sometimes – with publicity for The Locked Ward. The
attention is surreal. I find myself doing photoshoots and live inserts into radio
programmes (…'I've got Desmond O'Docherty on the line now, the author of a new
book entitled 'The Cloaked Sword'. Derek, tell us a little about how you came
to be disorderly in the I.C.I.') I open broadsheets and my slightly raddled
pie-face is staring back out at me. There's talk of a hundred projects a week
on TV, radio and online. BBC Breakfast. This Morning. Richard and Judy. Some
come off, some dinnae.
And the big radio interview that I spoke of last
time, the ‘The World At One’ one, didnae. It did not materialise. (I see you
now, as in an HM Bateman cartoon, recoiling in shock and crying, “Whaaaat?!
What did he say? ‘Didn’t come off’?”) I ken, incredible! But true, notwithstanding.
It came about in this wise…
I was scheduled to be on WATO,
as the BBC like to call it, on Monday the 9thy August. I rose betimes, brushed
my tooth, arrayed myself in fresh garments and headed off for Edinburgh's fine
stone buildings on the 8.43 Orange Blossom Special. I was to be interviewed at
BBC Scotland's studios on Holyrood Road. I had no sooner alit from the
footplate of the choo-choo than my mobile phone started to agitate in my
pocket.
It
was a person from WATO called Jasper. He said he was sorry but the news agenda
was so heavy that I was being dropped. I said I was supposed to record the
interview, so why didn't he let it go ahead and they could use it in the
future. He said that was not possible. He had phoned, he said, to save me
an inconvenient journey. I pointed out that my journey had only become
inconvenient as (and because) he spoke. And moreover, I was not at all happy
that he was called Jasper. Anyway, there
was nothing to be done (that gives me an idea for the start of a play) so with
very ill grace I got right back on the ferkin train and chuffed back home, decidedly
unchuffed. And got on the blower to my publicity person, a lady in old London
town.
I
observed to her that Wodehouse once remarked that it was never difficult to
tell the difference between a ray of sunshine and a Scotsman with a grievance.
Well, 'times that by a hundred’ as stupid people say nowadays, and that was me.
She, too, was disgruntled, to be fair. Completely misplaced her gruntle, on the
instant. She'd done a lot of work on it and cancelled the Today programme for
it. She would take it up with Jasper's boss, China.
And
no, he doesn't work for the government of Chung-Hua-Min Kung-Ho Kuo. He works
for a young woman called ... China. I shit you not. China. I think her brother, Crockery, is a big noise
in the city.) I had occasion to email her before Christmas and, of course,
commenced my communiqué with the immortal words of Francie and Josie:
"Hallo there, China," but I suspect the reference would have been
lost on her. She being both English and a young person.
Bum. Bum, bum, bumbaleerie, bum. I
was rather disappointed. It’s not often that you get the opportunity to be on
WATO, especially for writing a wee book about working with mad folk. But, like famous
philosopher says, ‘You caint always git what you wa-hant.’ I don’t blame my
publicity lady. I don’t even blame Jasper or China. (I might blame their Mums
and Dads a little for the names. But, as I say, the days of calling the wean
Tam or Betty have long gone from the earth, God be with those very days.) Who I blame is the bloody Scottish government
for causing such a stooshie about the Independence referendum that day that the
news programmes got clogged with it. Ah, but wait! I shall be revenged. When
the time comes, I shall vote for amalgamation with the Windward Islands. Such
is life. There have been, and will be, other opportunities.
Check out, if you are so inclined, The Scotland on Sunday (Spectrum) for 8th January,
the Independent for Tuesday 10th
January, The Times non-fiction short
reviews for January 7th and The
Spectator for December 31st 2011. (There are good online reviews
in Bookgeeks (Mike Stafford) 4th
January and in Bookbags on the 1st
of January.) And today the Guardian
website published a very favourable review by the great poet, John Burnside. It
will also appear in Sunday’s Observer.
Okay, that’s me done pimping my book.
I feel like a slattern now. Next time, I shall write about my launch in Word
Power Books in dear old Edinburgh toun, which comes to pass on Tuesday of next
week (24th.) Toodlepip and haud yer breath till then, playmates.
Here’s to the next time.
No comments:
Post a Comment