The Book Fair that never was - A London Book Fair that the publishing world will not forget (or wish to repeat)
Outside of the Fair we had an interesting journey on Sunday to London from Portsmouth in a train packed with refugees from the ash – those who had been stranded in Europe who had made their way by various means, (hire car and trains) across the continent to board a ferry to Portsmouth. One family were steadily and wearily making their way to Stansted airport to collect their car for a further four hour journey before reaching home. They looked a very tired and bedraggled bunch.
At the Union Jack Club at Waterloo, (a service personnel and ex-service personnel club) where we stay when in town, we met a delightful American couple who had been holidaying in Ireland and needed to return to their home, an American forces base near Munich in Germany. They had caught a ferry from Ireland, train to London and the next day were travelling on the Eurostar to Paris and then by train back to their home in Germany, a long and tortuous journey. I was delighted to meet them though because it turned out the American mystery author Carolyn Hart was their aunt. What a coincidence!
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I also had a good meeting with my fiction editor. He is eagerly awaiting the manuscript of the next Inspector Andy Horton marine mystery crime novel, which I rashly promised him the end of this month, little realising it is only a week away.
I met the buyer from Waterstones and The Book Depository, who are extremely supportive of my crime fiction. And I met a couple of fans of my Andy Horton series, one a delightful French lady who is very keen to see them translated into French.