I arrived at a bookshop that wasn't open the other day, to sign a book that wasn't there.
Mind you, it was in Dublin, where there are quite a few things that aren't there, or at least weren't a minute ago: they're rebuilding the city so fast that workers often go home on the Friday and come in on the Monday to find that their office has been replaced by a car park, elegant riverside apartments or a branch of the Chase Manhattan Bank. Although why you'd want to chase Manhattan when it's obviously not going anywhere is quite beyond me.Rising even faster than new buildings, meanwhile, is the price of old ones. The only people who can now afford to live in Dublin are Bono and Bertie Ahern, who invite each other around for tea and currant squares every other evening so they don't get lonely.Only last week, a town house in the fashionable south of the city sold for nine million euro, and even north of the river, traditionally differentiated from the other side, as any northside wag will tell you, by the fact that the women there have fake jewellery but real orgasms, estate agents are snapping up doghouses, evicting the dog and advertising them as bijou gems with unlimited potential for well-heeled yuppiemidgets. Although not too wellheeled, obviously, or they'd bang their heads off the ceiling.Anyway, where was I before you let me get off the point?
Ah yes, outside a bookshop that wasn't open.The reason it wasn't open was because it was one minute to nine in the morning, and the reason I was supposed to be there was to sign copies of Way to Go.
"Oh well," said Abigail, the small head of Blackstaff's huge marketing section, "better early than late.""Just think, I could have been lying in my nice warm bed back at the hotel listening to the house prices shooting up outside. They make a nice rustling sound, if you listen carefully," I muttered.
"Nonsense. This is the price authors have to pay for all that fame, glory and endless riches," she said brightly.I was just about to point out that I hadn't had any of those yet when the shutters slid open and the bookshop manager appeared.
"Ah, you'll be Geoff Hill," she said.
"I think so, although at this time of the morning I'm never sure."
"Well, the bad news is that we haven't many books for you to sign. We had to reorder it after it was book of the week in the Mail on Sunday."
"Aye, that was very kind of them. I really must send them the cheque sometime."
The shop was, in fact, down to its last dozen. I signed them all anyway, adding witty asides such as "Hope your granny gets better soon" or "Glad that nasty rash has cleared up" which readers could select as appropriate when they came in to buy the books at a more reasonable time.
At other shops, the story was even worse. Easons were down to seven, and Hodges Figgis were the proud possessors of only three.I dutifully signed the lot, then, to pass the time while Abigail chatted to the owner, wandered around signing other books with inscriptions like: "Listen, to be honest, this isn't very good, but there's a really good one called Way to Go in the travel section over by the window. Tell them I sent you. Best wishes, John Grisham."
I was just scribbling: "Not as good as Way to Go - JK Rowling" in the flyleaf of the latest Harry Potter book when Abigail steered me out of the door and into a taxi waiting to take us to the RTE studios for an interview with Con Murphy of the Marian Finucane Show.
"Here, how long do you want me to talk for?" I said as Con settled down behind the microphone. "About five minutes?"
"God, no, at least half-an-hour," he said. Mind you, I should hardly have been surprised, since Dublin is the only city in the world to have been home to three winners of the Nobel Prize for Literature - although not all on the same night, you understand.
"The Marian Finucane Show?" said the taxi driver as I headed to the train station afterwards. "Jaysus, that'll fairly help your sales."
"Aye, except they'll all turn up to buy books that aren't there," I said, thinking that selling too many books seemed to be as big a problem as not selling any. Even worse, it seemed to be catching: when I got to the station, I discovered they were down to their last train to Belfast.I climbed abroad gratefully, sank into a comfortable seat by the window, and spent a very pleasant journey home reading a book by a man who wasn't me.
source - http://www.newsletter.co.uk/story/20356
Colin Bateman
‘Geoff Hill has an outstanding writing talent with a wicked sense of fun. For all the hilarious observations and polished one-liners,there is also thoughtful, informative travelogue.’
Martyn Lewis, broadcaster
‘…a distinctive brand of travel journalism that managesto combine side-splitting hilarity with acuity of observation and a real insight into what makes cultures tick. A joyful and enlightening read.’
Julie Shmueli and David Rosenberg, Travelex UK Travel Writing awards
‘He has wonderful views on life, a great turn of phrase and a great sense of humour. His off-beat observations and zany outlook on life are laugh-out-loud funny.’
John Mullin, Independent
‘Remarkable, astonishing writing.’
Jeremy Atiyah, Independent on Sunday
source - http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/0856407658/qid=1117209032/202-7384915-5623860
Motorcycles are the Way to Go
Published by Blackstaff Press, Way to Go brings together two epic motorcycle journeys, from Delhi to Belfast on an Enfield, and from Chicago to LA on a Harley-Davidson.
‘Geoff is an incredibly talented writer who has the rare ability to combine sensitive and sharp observation with laugh-out-loud humour. Blackstaff is delighted to be publishing this wonderful madcap travelogue and to be bringing Geoff’s writing to an even wider audience,’ said Managing Editor Patsy Horton.
‘Little did I know when I first dreamed up the idea [of the journey] over a glass of wine too many that it would end up as a book,’ said Geoff Hill. ‘I'd like to thank my publishers, my agent, my wife, the cat and the man I saw buying a copy in a bookshop in Belfast the other day. Not to mention Colin Bateman, who liked it so much he said so on the cover. Even if he didn't come to the launch because he was launching his own book. I mean, how selfish can you get?"
Geoff Hill is the features and travel editor of the News Letter in Belfast. He has either won or been shortlisted for a UK Travel Writer of the Year award eight times. He has won the 2004 UK Travel Writer of the Year by Croatian National Tourist Office. He is also a former Irish Travel Writer of the Year and a former Mexican Government European Travel Writer of the Year, although he’s still trying to work out exactly what that means. He writes about travel regularly for the Daily Telegraph and the Independent on Sunday.
source - http://www.blackstaffpress.com/
