I was jealous that Rob Mackenzie had got his books yesterday, so I just had to get up early this morning and zip down to the postal depot to pick up my author copies of The Ambulance Box, which the postman had failed to leave in our designated "safe place" yesterday. I wasn't quite banging on the door begging to be let in, but I was there only a few minutes after they turned the key. Don't know whether the postal worker who handed the package over to me had any inkling of what it was, but she can't have failed to see my grin as broad as the Firth of Forth as I skipped out the building.
The photo shows our kitchen table, scissors and the books; it doesn't show the euphoria, as the subject was several centimetres in the air at the time. Seriously, though, it is a truly wonderful feeling. And a lovely book, if I do say so myself. Those dark green endpapers are just gorgeous! The cover looks every bit as good in real life as it does on a computer screen, if not better. Just to hold it in my hands sends me, honest it does.
Rob and I met up at lunchtime to swap books. His is every bit as fine, as you can see. It was a fitting way to celebrate, especially given that, as you'll read if you trawl through the virtual cupboard under the stair, we met up in the same cafe to swap the manuscripts of what became these collections about a year and a half ago. I don't think we could have anticipated that we'd end up with the same publisher, same publication date and a joint launch, but I'm absolutely delighted it has turned out that way.