So,
hathy_col and I spent today having the Authentic Southport Experience. A brief note - Southport is seven miles north of here, in Lancashire, and it is a historic Victorian seaside resort. Upon first sight, you couldn't be blamed for thinking you'd stepped back to 1900. It has the cheesy fairground, the typically British beach, the wrought iron and hanging baskets, and the awful weather.
The weather up until yesterday has been beautifully sunny and hot. Today, it was extremely windy, grey, a little drizzly - but Colleen and I later decided we didn't mind this, as it made the authentic experience even more authentic. Upon meeting, the first thing we did was walk up the pier, because, that's what you do. We managed to make ourselves heard over the howling wind, chatting away, and then my hat blew off, which was somewhat embarrassing. (I got it back in the end).
This was followed by pasties, random discussion, books by Robert Rankin, general yelling at the universe concerning Will Smith as Elijah Baley (eek!), and stuff like that. My favourite bits were a confession I made in Sayer's-
"Guess what I'm doing at the moment?"
(guardedly)"...what?"
"Writing het."
"Argh! What pairing?"
(rest of which is cut, because I can't face telling you lot)-and later, a Freudian slip of epic proportions when we were sitting in Costa. I won't go into it. That would embarrass Colleen who already has enough of a reputation.
Huh.
That appears to be everything.