You should've seen the other guy

Apologies for not having returned to say thank you to everyone who's emailed me in response to the previous post and shared their happiest holiday memories and favourite destinations. Reading them has been a real pleasure, and yesterday I finally got round to picking out the names of five people to receive books. Well done Alison, Sue, Katie, Denise and Holly, and *thank you* for your lovely emails. Florence was the most mentioned holiday destination and also one of the most evocatively described, so going there now feels like a matter of urgency, especially as Autumn has arrived with a vengeance here, hurling leaves against my window and making it necessary to wear thick jumpers and have the lights on all day.

Not that I'm going anywhere if I can help it until I look a bit more respectable. Last week I went down to London with daughter #1 and a friend as she'd been commended in the Foyle Young Poets of the Year competition and was invited to attend an award ceremony followed by a day of exciting poetry stuff at the Southbank Centre. Of course, maternal pride aside, I was thrilled because it was an excuse to meet up with London girls Natalie Rivers and Heidi Rice for lunch and gossip.

It was a glorious sunny day and we sat in the cafe at Tate Modern and looked out across the river as we had a lovely long, leisurely lunch. After we'd reluctantly said goodbye to Heidi and sent her back to her glamorous Southbank office Natalie and I wandered in the sunshine in the direction of St Pauls, where we had a cup of tea in the crypt and listened to a school choir singing in the cathedral above. So far so fabulous. After that we were heading back in the direction of the Southbank centre to meet the daughter when it all went a bit pear shaped. The traffic, being central London, was dire and I walked in front of a bus that was stationary - but couldn't see the courier cyclist hurtling along on its pavement side.

Oops. The rest is a bit hazy, but let's just say lots of blood and an ambulance were involved. Luckily the cyclist wasn't hurt and was extremely nice, picking me up (from which we can deduce he was extremely strong too) and insisting on giving us his name and phone number. Not that I was in much state to take it, but thank goodness for Natalie who was calm, competent and utterly magnificent in a way I just know I would have failed to manage had the roles been reversed (which in itself would be unlikely as she's far too sensible to throw herself into the path of an oncoming bike in the first place.) She kept me calm, fed me chocolate, waited while I was being stitched up, made lots of contingency plans with Heidi for collection of children, then escorted us all right to the platform at Euston station when it was time for our train home. I'm thinking of taking her everywhere with me in future, just to be on the safe side. She's an absolute goddess.

Here's what I looked like yesterday. Shame Halloween isn't for a few weeks...

A Wonderful Weekend

I don't get out much. Most weekends see me catching up on laundry, cleaning bathrooms and assisting with homework rather than slinging a smart little suitcase in the back of the car and whizzing off for a couple of days of fun/heavy drinking/inspiration - however, that's exactly what I did this weekend when I went to the RNA conference at Caerleon. (Except for the 'smart little suitcase' bit, but more of that later.)

For reasons mostly to do with deadlines and looming summer holidays this was my first conference, so I wasn't entirely sure what to expect beyond beautiful shoes and lots of wine consumption. Having been the kind of person who always had ten good reasons to go to the union bar instead of a lecture when I was at university I certainly wasn't anticipating wanting to go to every single session, but that's pretty much what happened. From Lizzie Kremer's opening talk on contracts to lovely Sara Craven's summing-up speech I only missed one, when tiredness and the need for tea got the better of us and Natalie Rivers and I sloped back to our flat. (Very good thing indeed that the conference goody bags had been visted by the Green & Blacks fairy - my bar of fruit and nut was practically medicinal by that stage.)

Aside from being monumentally motivating, it was just fabulous to get together with people I don't see nearly often enough and meet lots of new friends, including new medical author Scarlet Wilson. Am sure her books will be as funny and smart and fantastic as she is, so we're all in for a treat. She's also incredibly glamorous, but you'll just have to take my word for that as this is the moment when I have to admit that I have returned home without a single photo. (Again. *sheepish look*) I'm going to say this was due to chucking all my stuff into a bigger suitcase five minutes before I had to leave for the station on Friday, having broken the zip on the small one trying to close it, and forgetting to retrieve my camera from the little pocket, but in all honesty I didn't even notice I hadn't taken it until I got home. Too busy talking to do photos, obviously.

Amongst the many highlights of the weekend were the dinner on Saturday night, when we were lucky enough to share a table with all four gorgeous M&B editors (and were the last to leave the hall at sometime after 1 am...) Fiona Harper's utterly brilliant talk on Getting Emotion on the Page, finally coming up with a pretty satisfactory 'elevator pitch' sentence for the book I'm trying to write in Jane Wenham-Jones' excellent session (with help from Fiona) and - now I come to think of it - just thinking about books and writing for a whole weekend, without having to apply my mind to the contents of the fridge and what to do with them. (The mini-fridge in my room contained a pint of milk and the aforementioned bar of Green and Blacks. No probs thinking what to do with either of those. Maybe should recreate this at home.)

The strangest part was seeing so many faces that were half-familiar from twitter profile pics, and being too shy to approach most of them. It's a funny old thing - like falling into a book and where you know all the characters, but suspecting that you'll come across as a total scary weirdo-stalker if you behave as such. Wonder if this is an age thing? Suspect the yoof of today are much better at making the transition between cyber and real world. Will try to be braver next time.

The train home was ancient, filthy and vastly overcrowded but I had plenty to think about, and I'm not just talking about the salacious details of the conversation the women opposite me were having. Back at home He seemed to have managed fine without me, which was a little impolite, I felt. However, online shop arrived last night and it transpired he had forgotten to order biscuits. *smug face* I would never do that. Nice to know I am needed after all.

Now. Must write book.