Monday, 16 April 2012
I never read reviews:
Monday morning. My daughter has cleared her worldly goods from the garage. Well, it's a neat stack the height of a cotton mill waiting to be transferred for transportation to a new life blocking the stepladder to the loft (it's a tall garage). As I shifted one of the cardboard boxes to climb the stepladder in search of cardboard to pack an original drawing in, to send to a client, a newspaper fell out of this flimsy open cardboard box containing a an old pair of black boots and padded with a review section of the Observer. I haven't seen this for a couple of years. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.....and I'm sticking it on here, after all this damn blog was set up originally in a pathetic attempt to raise the book's profile. I confess to checking it's Amazon ranking at infrequent intervals - a habit I am less inclined to practice nowadays as this groundbreaking book floats around the three hundredth zilllion mark...anyway the dog is getting impatient.