Not having any contemporary photos of myself, or anyone, or a camera (I live an eccentric life), I had nothing to put up on my profile heading. But now my brother Terry has produced a great portrait of me that I’m proud to put there (well, it doesn’t quite capture my devilish good looks, but then, no camera ever did either! So I won’t quibble).
In other news, a friend was unable to pre-order my book. I went to it and tried everything I could think to find the pre-order icons, but they simply aren’t there. They are there for other people’s books, real easy to find, but not mine. I sent an email to inkshares asking if I’d made some crucial mistake when I posted it. Dadgummit. Any ideas from anyone?
I finally broke down and joined Facebook. Again, no photos, but there is a nice illo Terry did for my Speculative Poetry book, and a few of my far less impressive cartoons.
That’s all.
Tom
All, thank you for the support. Things have been progressing well...
The Britannia Club stood on King Street, a respectable limestone facade among respectable limestone facades, with a brass plaque that nobody had looked at in decades; if you had to stop to check the address, you were clearly in the wrong place.
This was St. James. “Clubland.”
The men traversing these streets walked with that air of self-assurance that comes from belonging to a privileged set. In bookish Bloomsbury, the Londoners drifted around the British Museum in the wake of lit. . .