I'm having a celebration of this momentous occasion on Tuesday night, with a couple of my fellow local authors. I have a bottle of Moet et Chandon chilling in the fridge. If you're wondering how a writer who is NOT Stephen King, Di Morrissey, or J K Rowling can afford such a prestigious and expensive drop, let me tell you this: I can't. But I would have cheerfully drawn on my mortgage, because sometimes you just have to live a little. As it happens, this esteemed champers was actually a birthday gift to me some time back, and I have been waiting for the right occasion. The right occasion never seemed to arrive. It seemed I had nothing to celebrate, which is a sad indictment on the suckiness of my life of late. But if the arrival of my latest book is not worth celebrating, then what is? I don't know if the Moet has retained its integrity in the time I've had it, but I will be purchasing some fruit juice in case, and Howling on a Concrete Moon can be toasted with Moet-infused Bellinis and Bucks Fizzes. Mr Bingells will join us for a drop; he's not a champagne drinker as a rule, but what the hell, it's Moet et Chandon. I will invite our oldest child, who is now legally old enough to indulge in a tipple, to have some, too. He will probably refuse, as alcohol doesn't interest him.
In the interim, I have photographed both the front and back covers, and here we are:
Also, because I'm getting okay adding pictures to this, here's the publicity shot taken in the SBS studio the day I filmed Mastermind :
So, I'm not doing too badly these past few days. Just got to get onto the publicity trail.
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