Once More With Footnotes
p age 28.
Since then I've done a tour most years, sometimes linked up with SF cons either in Australia or New Zealand. And after every tour I do The Report, of things we did, things that went wrong (and right), and all the other stuff that might be useful in the future.
It'd be sort of suicidal to print one. So I looked at all the reports, and tinkered with them ... So this is a compiled account — everything reported happened at various times in various places and in various ways but the details have been f udged to protect the innocent, which is to say, me.
In The Last Continent I tried to make it clear that the Discworld continent of Fourecks is not, of course, Australia. It's just a bit ... Australian. So this is a report of a tour that never was in some place that doesn't exist. But it all happened, somewhere. I've just moved things around a bit to protect the innocent, which in this case means me.
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Day 1
Off on BA009, 10:25 p.m. from Heathrow. Watched Mars Attacks; shame Mars didn't attack earlier, like before this waste of space went into production. Rowan Atkinson and Mel Smith were also in the cabin, so there was understandably a genteel air of silent gloom which meant I could get some sleep.
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Day 3
(Day 2 is confiscated by Customs when you arrive but they give it back to you when you go.)
Arrived feeling fragile but okay, checked into hotel, slept for six hours, woke up feeling as though every sensory organ in my body had been wrongly wired. A vital piece of equipment on tour is a small to rch and a notebook. Every night you're in a new room. It's not just that you don't know where the bathroom is, you don't even remember where the light switch is. Before the jetlag wears off, you don't even know if you're the right person. This is where th e notebook comes in handy.
Up and shower and do some local media and then it's time for a talk and signing.
This was something originally dreamed up by some fans as a little chat, got bigger at the insistence of the fearsome PR lady who likes my time to be filled edge to edge, and ended up in this big hall with 400 people. Nice bunch. Someone congratulates me on my deadpan delivery. Haven't the heart to say that this is because bits of my body think it's 5:00 a.m.
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Day 4
Morning doing more media, ma ny of whom I'd met before. One keen guy conducts entire interview with the mike of his recorder plugged into the auxiliary power socket. I didn't like to point this out, because it would be impolite, so when he found out by himself we did the interview ag a in.
Noon: Small Mainstream Bookshop signing
A very small shop — 250 square feet or so, I'd guess, but with a very mixed and friendly queue that took up more or less the whole 90 minutes allocated. This is one of those shops where the owners seem to know half the customers by name, and probably ring them up to find out how they are if they don't see them for a month. Couldn't fault it. Banana daiquiri supplied, entirely unasked.
Straight on to: University of Bananabendin, Worralorrasurfa.
A good crowd that took two hours to get through. Pet wallaby brought along to see me, and a fan presents me with a bag of dried bush tomatoes, of which I'm known to be rather fond. Oh, and here's a banana daiquiri. And someone's holding a baby kangaroo.
Then a phone interview with a journalist doing a preview piece for the signing a few cities down the line. She's never read a Discworld book, but nervously admits to sharing a home with someone who's read them all. And reads out bits to her.
On to Small Family Booksh op, for a talk outside in the rather nice back garden. Nibbles and, hey, a banananana dakry. Overhead, possums swoop from tree to tree, unless I mean wombats. Hard to get away from this shop because the owner is one of those lovely people who tries to give you his entire stock to take away, but I make it in the end.
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Day 5
Damn — the cooling fan in the laptop has stopped
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