They couldn’t believe I’d not been to Carluccio’s before. Truth be told I’d not quite cottoned on to the fact that there is an affordable variety, and that one doesn’t have to take out a new mortgage to dine in Neal Street, which is my normal haunt. (Shoe shops, you know.) So that was nice. Candy Gourlay is a regular, it seems, who doesn’t need to read the menu in order to order. And as mentioned the other day, we had the same food, she and I. Main course sounded good when Candy suggested it, and it was.
And then Mum Clare said we just had to have pudding, so we obeyed. That’s where the coffee ice cream comes in. It’s Candy’s favourite, and I hardly ever come across it, so jumped at the chance. Luckily I hate coffee, so didn’t attempt what Candy did, which was to have a cup of coffee at the same time as the ice cream. Our Italian waitress took some time to grasp the idea, and then she proved that she hadn’t grasped at all. Something (the coffee?) arrived in a jug next to the ice cream. The waitress was not amused at being told this was wrong. Once she grasped, you understand.
So I would not recommend doing this.
It’s weird meeting someone who’s your friend on Facebook. We’ve been aware of each other for close to two years, during which Candy has not only blogged and Facebooked avidly, but designed websites, and just happened to have redesigned her own site the day before. As you do when you have nothing better to occupy yourself with on a Sunday afternoon. Very computer savvy, in other words.
In between these things Candy wrote Tall Story, her first novel which is published by David Fickling in June. I found out how and why she wrote it, and how on earth she managed to get herself a good agent and how the book ended up with David.
Last summer Candy attended an Arvon writing week, tortured by Melvin Burgess and Malorie Blackman, which apparently was great. I should think so! Though she had already written most of Tall Story by then, so the two MBs can’t claim to have done any ghost writing.
Speaking of such literary giants, we soon moved on to general gossip about famous authors and anything else we could think of. I suspect that the secret behind getting your book published is to have the right cleaner. One who thinks nothing will come of all that frantic typing in north London. You’ll just have to ‘show her.’
Hope all my other Facebook friends I have yet to meet are as nice.