Naughty Letters to Ms. Mac

Countless noble souls (and many fluffy kittens) sacrificed their lives during the making of this blog. We think you will agree they were worth it.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

Ode to Ian



Dearest Stells,

I think it may be all over between us.

Believe me, this will hurt you more than it will hurt me.

Blame it all on Doc and Vivi.

Those naughty girls fixed me up on a blind date with a devastatingly dashing published author! I rolled up at Ian Walthew's book signing in Joinville at 3 pm on Saturday and prepared to politely shake hands and introduce myself, only to be treated to a thrilling bise (two cheeks) and his declaration that he already knew who I was!

Well! I do believe I may have spilled my hot tea and crumbling carrot cake right down my cleavage with the excitement of it all. I immediately bought his sweet little book thingie, and quivered as I watched his manly hands caressing the cash pristine pages, before signing it with a personalised message TO ME. That has to mean something, right?

I hung around all afternoon, casting sultry looks his way as he schmoozed with the crowds of potential buyers. I was very upset that Doc sent me to the supermarket at one stage, as I suspect Vivi may have been slaying him with her Southern charms while I was away. I cleverly pretended to get lost in those confusing and complex country supermarkets, and "needed" Doc and Ian to come and find me.

To my great delight, Doc had invited him to a smaller, intimate barbecue in the evening. Big mistake Doc! The hussy kept trying to cosy up to The Lovely Ian to get her "ego" stroked, but I made sure to get a seat right next to him and I slapped that bitch down.

A nasty catfight ensued, and I am hereby declaring myself the winner. The fact that I had to drive the offspring back home to Hubby today, while Ian stays on for another night in Doc's Den of Iniquity does not deter me in the slightest. I feel it can only be a matter of time before he invites me for a quiet Literary Lunch and intellectual discussion session. No stroking of egos will be necessary. I may try to tickle his fancy though.

So sayonara Babe, it was great while it lasted. Don't feel too bad. I'm sending you a consolation prize:

Ian's lovely little memoir thingie, A Place in My Country, which he signed and personally dedicated to you!

Carefree love and two-faced kisses,

Antipo

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P.S. You can read some reviews here , here and here.

I can't wait to read your review!

Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall himself wrote of Ian's book: “..compelling and often deeply moving...Walthew marshals his runaway real life narratives with a novelist’s skill...a page-turner”. Which is high praise indeed, even if Hugh FW is as nutty as a fruit cake.

I personally like this comment from an Amazon reader's review: Walthew is a talented writer and manages to keep you eagerly turning the pages, whilst smiling in recognition and acknowledgment, and occasionally frowning with indignation.

I'm taking him to bed right now, ready to smile in recognition and frown with indignation.

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