I already had two authors, plus one Son, on the go for Monday, when a third one said she wouldn’t mind meeting up. But that was not to be. The afternoon could only be stretched so much, and I was already overstretched.
First on the agenda was lunch with yet another Perthshire author. Elizabeth Wein left an incinerator meeting in Perth in order to eat a corned beef sandwich with me in Stirling, telling me all about her most marvellous book Code Name Verity, and showing me pilots’ stuff from the war and secret silk maps and everything. And I learned that Maddie lived just round the corner from me.
It’s as if it was meant.
We had a nice, if noisy, lunch in a traditional café (because of the war) and we talked, talked, talked. Elizabeth admitted to an interest in vintage underwear. Just so you know.
After lunch I had to hop on the train to Edinburgh, for some freshly baked cookies at Son’s and Dodo’s. The Lapsang Souchong was so smokey it set the smoke detector off. Or it might have been the cookies in the oven.
Grabbing my M&S sandwiches (sorry, I seem to talk a lot about food) I got on the 49 bus to the Royal Terrace Hotel, where Nicola Morgan was going to talk about brains.
I had been looking forward to sitting in the bar with Nicola and the other two people there, but contrary to Nicola’s modest expectations, her event sold out and I had to share her with loads of other people who also wanted to learn about the teenage brain. Pardon, the adolescent brain.
As it was, I sat at the back (Nicola had reserved me the most perfect seat in the corner, with my name on it and everything) munching goats cheese sandwiches as discreetly as possible, listening to Blame My Brain, which was so much more interesting even than I had expected. (I almost felt the Resident IT Consultant should have come too, and not just been used as a taxi service at the other end.)
There is an explanation as to why teenagers appear to be unable to be more articulate than to say ‘uhh’ at all times. Even old Shakespeare noticed this.
I will return with more details on the prefrontal cortex front later this week. Just now I will leave you with a brief mention of the dainty little cakes Nicola had on offer afterwards. Some of us drank tea and ate cake (oops, eating again) while others bought books.
It was a nice walk back to Waverley, passing a pretty old church at the end of the cobbled street, and with a lit up path meandering up Calton Hill. If I’d known what I was doing, and if I had not had a train to catch, I might have investigated some more. As it was, this turned out to be my second foray into unknown book related territory at night in one week.