Head Rambles

Grandad January 22nd, 2009

I had a mail the other day.  They wanted to know would I go on the radio.  I said OK, because I wasn’t planning on doing anything else. 

When I emailed them I asked them where they were located.  They mailed me back and said they were opposite the cemetery.

I mailed them in turn and asked it they had many deaths among their contributors but they said they didn’t have that many.

They asked me if I knew where the cemetery was.

I asked them if they meant the one opposite the radio studios, but they didn’t reply to that.

Anyway, this morning I went up there.  It was a very pleasant morning for a drive through the county for a change, as most mornings lately it has either been snowing or pissing rain.

I was right.  It was the cemetery opposite the studios, so having found that, I found the studios. 

In my previous incarnation, when I worked in RTE, I used to see people waiting to go on the radio.  I used to feel sorry for them because they all looked like they were waiting on death row.

Then I would get annoyed with them because they were always treated like royalty while the rest of us were treated like shit.

Today I was the royalty, so I dutifully looked down on the staff as I was whisked into the studio.

It was great craic in there.  We had a laugh for a while and the next thing I was thrown out the door.  It way have been the pipe smoke that annoyed them; I don’t know.

I didn’t hear the programme.

It was live so I couldn’t be at home to listen to it.

I will say one thing…

It was all so fucking easy.

Watch out Rick O’Shea.

I’m on the way up.

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Grandad January 8th, 2009

Last March I was very honoured to win an award at the Irish Blog Awards.

Part of the prize was a nice bottle of champagne.

Being a Guinness man, and not particularly partial to Black Velvet, the bottle has remained unopened, waiting for a Very Special Occasion.

I’m fussy about special occasions.  Some would have opened the bottle at Christmas when the family were all here.  No.  We opened a couple of bottles we brought back from France and got pissed on enjoyed them.

I had my special occasion in mind and the bottle remained firmly sealed until then.

That occasion has now arrived.

It came through the letterbox this morning.

The very first copy.

The first of a first edition.  Already I can see it appreciating in value.

The distribution process starts on Monday to it should appear on the shelves soon.

But until then……..

Sláinte.

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Grandad November 27th, 2008

Things are progressing.

The Book is going off to the printers tomorrow.  I shall be at the station to wave it off on its journey.

A final decision has also been made on the cover….

You can click on it if you want to see the larger version and read the blurb.

The sketch on the back cover is a doodle our K8 did one day.  She wasn’t that happy with it, but I was, so I sent it to the publishers.  They loved it, and there it is.

I didn’t like the cover initially, but it is growing on me, along with the moss and the ferns.

I’m still not sure about the bald head, as baldness doesn’t run in the family, but it will help when it comes to dodging the paparazzi in the future when I am world famous [“That can’t be Grandad – he has a full head of hair”].

I’m also a little annoyed that they have taken my name off it, yet The Other Fella who only does my typing gets his name right at the top.  Fuck him.

And what is this shit about “Ireland’s most cantankerous Auld Fella”?  They have a fucking nerve.  Bastards.

All in all, apart from those little errors, I think it is a good design.

In fact, I think the cover alone is worth the price, and to hell with the contents.

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Grandad November 3rd, 2008

I just received an email from the publishers.

They attached a few sections of The Book that needed amending, so I fixed them and sent them back.

Apparently, the draft is sent off to people who actually read the stuff I have written, and who look for mistakes and spelling errors. 

After reading my little efforts, four of them are now happily living in a maximum security home for the terminally bewildered.  Three others have left their jobs to pursue a career in alcoholism.

It makes you think though.  Think of all the crap that has been published.  Someone has had to read all that in great detail.  There is no speed reading or chapter skipping for them.  What is worse, they have no say in what is sent to them.  They can’t insist that they only proof read John Grisham.

There are also people employed by the television stations who have to watch films all day, so they can be checked for timing, rating and the like.   It sounds like a lovely job until you think about it.  Imagine having to watch four American teenage romcoms [Jeeeeeezus, how I hate that expression!] in succession before you are allowed home.  Imagine if you were forced to watch satellite television, where you had no control over what you watched.  It’s a fate worse than death.

Just think…  Someone has to proof read all Cecelia Ahern’s books.

Fuck!

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Grandad October 29th, 2008

Things are beginning to move, and we are not talking laxatives here.

They talk about films having working titles, but The Book has a working cover.  It may stay like this or it may change.

It will be hitting the shelves in January, but in the meantime, it has appeared on Amazon. You heard it here first.

There is a prolific writer in Amazon with the same name.  He’s a shrink, so if I accidentally get a few of his nutcases followers buying the book then I may go into the psychiatry business.  Who knows?

There are a couple of things that annoy me about the cover.  One is that I have a fine head of hair for my age.  The other is that they insisted on putting Yer Man’s name on it.  He that does my typing for me.  I have forgiven them though as my name is in bigger letters than his.

As for its contents? 

I don’t know.

I haven’t read it yet.

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