Forgive me father, it’s been a while. 2024 has been such a busy year that I have neglected my duties a little bit, including my column for the Rock News magazine, which normally contributed to this blog.
The life of an author is usually full-on but
with three books published in one year, this one has upped the anti towards
melting point. Couple that with a continuous podcast, commentating, after
dinner speaking, running a property company and two, nay, three, flocks of
sheep and it tires me out just writing this.
Anyway, I am not complaining as I sit with my
back to the sea in Fife. I would face it but the sun is shining through the
window so brightly I can’t see my screen, and this is mid-December. Also the
constant blink of the Christmas lights are offering me epilepsy, should I care
to dwell on them. Somewhere in the room are a pile of a variety of books, all
with my name on the front cover, and a sharpie ready for me to sign inside the
cover. Behind them stands my wife, with a roll of packing tape and the car engine
warmed ready for yet another trip to the local post office, which is now 10
miles away since they shut all the ones around here. Yesterday I was in
England, buying a sheep, last week it was Texas, selling books, tomorrow I am
in London speaking at a dinner, and so it goes on.
Our History of Aberdeen Angus book, the
one it took three of us three years to write, is selling fast, although not yet
caught up with breakeven status. We have sold 400 at £100 each, just another
150 to go to pay for the editor, publisher and printer of the 2000 copies we
had done. All in good time.
The History of Texel sheep which I also
co-authored has arrived at my door and I have to say the printers made a great
job of it, again something I am highly proud of. A few weeks ago we were at a
rather posh hotel in Chester, celebrating 50 years of the breed being in UK.
Sadly the book wasn’t there with us, an oversight not to be blamed on yours
truly.
Finally, Lord of the Hollow Mountain was
released on paperback on Sunday, possibly too late for the Christmas rush but I
am pleased with the result. I am sure it will piss off a few Scottish Blackfaced
sheep breeders as I deliver a fictional account of skullduggery in the sheep
industry, with as many disclaimers as I could fit in. If anyone recognizes themselves
within the cover, it was surely unintentional. However, if the cap fits, wear
it, eh?
While wiling a few hours away in the airport
yesterday I was drawn towards a poster advertising fart-proof pants. Yes, you read
that correctly. Flatulence resistant underwear is now a thing, marketed under
the name of Shreddies! I have yet to ascertain whether these garments prevent
flatulence, or just eat up it’s odour, but they are selling fast. I will
shortly find out as, when I mentioned them to my wife, she swiftly went on Amazon
to invest in some, just as a trial. Whether for me or her, I am as yet yet
unsure. I am guessing the proof will be in the Christmas pudding, when the
trumping really starts!
