The year, she is wheezy

Yes, it’s the end of another year. Another 365 lumbering steps towards the box that awaits us all… Well, unless you’re planning on being buried in some sort of larger-than-life-sized papier mache model of a badger, or getting turned into pies, or something like that.

I wonder if a cannibal wake would catch on over here? I mean, the Wari’ have been doing it for generations. Mind you, you’d have to do a bit of presentation on the body parts if it’s going to be a success in the UK. At the very least you’d have to wrap the various bits in pastry so they look like sausage rolls. Mind you, then you’d never really know what bit you were eating … much like a real sausage roll then.

Anyway, yes. This has taken a rather macabre turn, hasn’t it? I have been eating a lot of cheese at bedtime lately, so maybe that explains it..

Another thing I’ve been doing a lot of over the festive period is sleeping. Lots and lots of sleeping. Which I suppose isn’t that surprising, given how busy 2010 has been. Too many all-nighters pulled trying to meet deadlines, lots of travelling, and the fact that I spend most of my time indoors with Grendel. let’s face it, she’s a cat — sleeping is what cats are second best at, closely tied with covering everything in the house in a thick patina of discarded fluff. Honestly, the floor in my study looks like a deep-pile grey mohair jumper. Every time I hoover it’s like playing Indiana Jones and the Lost Carpet of Blueness (which would probably still be a much better film than all that Crystal Skull nonsense).

So, the only two options I can come up with are that, A: I’ve got some sort of sleeping sickness – which I kinda doubt as the only place I’ve been recently is Shetland, and in addition to its complete lack of anything even remotely resembling a jungle, it’s also renowned for not having any tsetse flies. Or, B: being around Grendel so much is turning me into a cat. Which I suppose wouldn’t be all that bad — Grendel has a great life, she’s pampered, fed, watered, looked after, has no real responsibilities, and never has to hoover the study in a vain attempt to locate the actual carpet.

Of course the downside would be having to wash oneself continuously using only your own tongue. I’ve got a bit of a bad back, so that’s out. Maybe I’d be allowed to use someone else’s tongue on medical grounds? (And don’t think Keira Knightley and Ann Widdecombe haven’t been fighting over the privilege) But then I’d have to spend the day covered in someone else’s slavers, and that’s doesn’t appeal quite as much as you’d think.

I’ve completely forgotten where I was going with this.

Anyway, in the absence of yet another ‘top ten of 2010’ listy post, enjoy your Hogmanay* and if you’re in Aberdeen on the 12th of January, maybe I’ll see you at the Lemon Tree, where we’ll be launching SHATTER THE BONES.

Right, now I’m off for a snooze…

* Which my spelling checker wants to change to ‘Mahogany’ for some God-forsaken reason. Not quite the same thing, I’m thinking, but I have been known to be wrong in the past. Perhaps people do burst into annual revelry around their sideboards, stripping off till all their wearing are party hats and a cheesy grin? Who am I to judge?

10 Responses to “The year, she is wheezy”

  1. I always thought being a cat was the way to go. Lions can sleep for twenty hours a day, apparently.

    Here’s hoping the launch in the Lemon Tree goes well. I’d be there if I wasn’t stuck down here in Wales.

  2. Grief! talk about depressing…another 365 days towards our demise?? Isnt worth thinking about….more cheer Mr Stuart please x


  3. Ah, Linda, but that was 2010. Which was a bastard of a year for deadlines and sitting up till three in the morning in a Munich hotel room, hunched over a laptop cursing everyone who was out there having bratwurst and fun…

    2011 will be a year of fluffy bunnies and kittens (who will probably eat all the fluffy bunnies, because that’s what they’re there for, after all), and rainbows on mittens, and pickled onions on … smittens. Or something.

    The old year is dead, long live the new year!

  4. Yo Bearded One…

    Just *what* in the name of blue-balled heck does “Sharny” mean when it’s at home?

    Er… please.

  5. “Sharny” = “Shitty” (as in ‘covered in shit’, not ‘of inferior quality’) but frequently used as a less forceful form; somewhere between “shitty” and “mucky”. It is in common use in N.E. Scotland. There is an unfortunate side effect for ladies named “Sharon” as the pronunciation of “Sharon” and “sharn” (shit; faeces; ordure) can often be confused.

  6. Yet another great book there Stuart! Really enjoyed it (just as well as I got hubby to queue for it on Thursday!)
    Just gutted I have to now wait a year for your next book and 2 years for the next Logan installment.

  7. I have tickets for the Lemon Tree YAAAAY!!! I’m bringing Dying Light for you to sign for my dear ‘Quaint’ old Dad. Let’s hope the South African posties don’t nick it!

    I have a pre-Lemon Tree question. With NE Scotland having the highest incident of Crohns Disease per capita in the world, when are we going to feature in one of the books? I think it’d be great fun for one of the constables to have to stop mid-chase to go and throw up quietly somewhere or rush off to the loo…. no really!

    I have Shatter the Bones in my sweaty paws and am going to indulge in a sneak preview. Off to bed now with Logan McRae oooh-er…..

    Gayle 🙂

  8. YAY!!!! Shatter the Bones dropped on my doormat today. I´m off to give it a good seeing to and will let u know how I get on.
    By the way, I´ve been talking to friends a lot lately, and many of them would love to be Logan´s missus.
    Am I the only one would actually almost turn Lesbo and be Steels´ wee pet? I know ~~blush~~

  9. Hi Stuart,

    Thanks for signing my book at the Lemon Tree the other night.
    It was a good, entertaining night again.

    Just finished the book, and loved it – especially the ending.

    Can’t believe it’ll be so long before we get to read another Logan book!

    Thanks again.


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