At last, the other ***

This is where it happened

The Mailbox, Birmingham

and this is who I met there. Andy McNab

My alert readers will immediately deduce who that sleeve belongs to, and that the asterisks above indicate that after blogging about Scandinavian Airlines and the Scattered Authors, I have finally met the real SAS. I mean, the real SAS for me is the airline, but it’s the ‘cool and dangerous’ SAS this time.

I met Andy McNab in Birmingham yesterday. At least I hope I did. I went into this bar and started chatting to the first balaclava-ed man I saw. It was him, wasn’t it? With all other writers, if I don’t know them, I google them to make sure I can recognise them. Doesn’t work with Andy. Not that he’s called Andy, anyway. This one tried to suggest he’d be Terry Pratchett today, but you know me. I know my Terry Pratchetts well, and it wasn’t him. He tried it with the wrong witch.

Andy’s lovely publicist Sally had suggested that I might want to interview him. And I did, seeing as I missed him at the local bookshop three years ago, due to someone’s unfortunate lack of understanding my likes and dislikes. The Daughter got to meet him then, so she didn’t need to come this time. Especially since the services of a photographer wasn’t top of my list for Monday’s outing.

The witch had tea and this man in the bar had coke. Whoever he was, we had a nice conversation. He looked rather like a Guardian reader, now that I come to think of it. That doesn’t mean we actually read the same newspaper. In case he wants to sue.

As some of you will want to know what Andy had to say, I’ll now work diligently at transcribing our conversation, and I will strive to make up a really good misquote, because he seemed to quite fancy being quoted wrongly, as long as it’s a good one.

And no, he didn’t really wear a balaclava. It would have attracted attention.

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2 responses to “At last, the other ***

  1. I’m surprised he didn’t do the interview and then turn to you and calmly inform you that he’d have to kill you, having told you all his secrets.

    O International BookWitch of Mystery – I hope you realise that you’ll now need 24/7 police protection, have to go into the protected witness programme, wear tinted contact lenses and have yer dabs burned off.

    And go blonde.

    Yeeeeeargh. Anything but that.

  2. Hairdresser’s been booked. (You know about these things?) I believe red is what women and witches of a certain age opt for.

    I suspect he didn’t tell me everything. Hmm. He didn’t even search me when we were introduced. Do hope photo of ‘the venue’ didn’t give away his whereabouts before he’d got away this morning.

    My mobile wasn’t confiscated, unlike at Daughter’s event. My camera’s memory card survived intact, after he’d inspected it.

    Is it too early to breathe out?

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