At last, publication day for Me and Mr Carrington has arrived, and I could tell you that my people had whisked me away for a champagne breakfast at The Wolesely, followed by a few gentle questions from the waiting media pack and then on to a photoshoot or whatever, but then I’d be lying, here’s what really happened –
Woke up at 3.50am with the fear, so grabbed my iPad, read proof copy of Me and Mr Carrington and decided it was a pile of shite and that I probably should give up writing because let’s face it, what the fuuuuuuck was I actually thinking.
Nudged Mr B in the back and said, ‘It’s rubbish, everyone will hate me.’
Got a little bit teary before going back to sleep.
Woke up again at 7ish, could hear QT singing the rainbow song – red, yellow, pink and green, you know the one.
Got up, got QT up, took off the zebra print onesie with matching face mask she had put on, and ‘Kofi Annan-ed’ her into the correct nursery uniform* – negotiating with a three year old can be exhausting but does it really matter if she wears the ballerina print vest with Peppa Pig knickers?
* may have bribed her with a sweetie to have AFTER breakfast. Whaaat? I’m not THAT bad a mother… note to the social, QT never has sweets for her actual breakfast!
Spent a whole minute justifying to QT why we didn’t have ‘the Yeo Valley yogurt, but it’s organic and much nicer bla bla bla,’ (yep, she actually said that) before wising up and telling her it was Weetabix or plain old Tesco yogurt, swiftly remembering that she’s THREE and I’m the boss of us, or something like that. Wimp.
Drove QT to nursery, we both got involved in a rousing sing-along to Cracklin Rosie, with lots of air guitar to the ‘guitar humming’ bit and QT bellowed, ‘play it now, play it now, play it now my baby….’ right on cue. God I love her long long time.
Arrive at nursery so late, the gate is properly closed and we have to ring the security bell and run across the empty playground, so EVERYONE knows we’re late. Mutter an excuse about traffic and QT’s teacher beams before congratulating me on publication day. NICE.
Bomb home and do my best to reply to all the lovely Twitter messages. Chat to my really nice agent and he asks if there are any reviews yet. Tell him I don’t know – too scared to look.
Resist looking at Amazon. Resist some more, and then cave in. No reviews – phew! Couldn’t bear it if the first one was cack, plus it’s not even 10am, far too early for gin.
Try to write more of Ice Creams at Carrington’s, but it’s hopeless, just can’t concentrate and look at online pictures of Elvis instead while listening to the ‘Wonder of You’, try not to get too emosh, it’s hard, what can I say… the man is / was HOT (in the early days). See here….
Decide that I deserve some time off – it is publication day after all, and so I scoff a Dime bar before having a little snooze on the sofa.
Wake up, answer a few emails, indulge in a bit of Twitter bants, flick on the radio and twerk around the kitchen to Moves Like Jagger.
Postman arrives with my publication day pressie to myself, a copy of Mad About The Boy – read blurb on inside cover, wish I’d written her witty observation re the Dalai Lama. Next time Bridge, next time, I’m on it!
Sneak another look at Amazon and SWEET LORD OF REVIEWS, the first one is a FIVE starrer. A belter. Oh happy days! Or as Neil Diamond says, and I like to quote during my drama queen moments after a few too many flutes …. ‘hell yeah, the journey was worth every bit of what it took to get here…’ FAINTS.
And there you have it – publication day for ME AND MR CARRINGTON!
Now, watch this and try not to shiver when Neil Diamond walks across the Brooklyn Bridge before singing Cracklin Rosie. Dare ya! Gets me every time. I LOVE NYC.