THE HOUSE AT THE END OF THE PIER
Yesterday morning, the guys at the office needed to send me a package via TNT, but TNT dropped it onto the wrong van and it went AWOL. In the time that we were trying to figure out where it had gone, one of the guys asked me if I lived anywhere 'weird'. Somewhere so weird that even Tom Hanks couldn't find it. What he actually said was this:
"Do you live anywhere weird like at the end of a pier? I can see you living at the end of a pier - it would suit you. People would say things like 'don't go down to the end of the pier, that's where the guy with crazy hair lives. Best stay away from there'."
This is one of the nicest things anybody has ever said about me and got the day off to a good start.
My brain made some tentative connections at the mention of the phrase 'crazy hair' and I sent him a link to the book Crazy Hair and then because they live side by side on a shelf here, I also sent a link to The Day I Swapped My Dad For A Goldfish - and my pier quoting friend at the other end, promptly ordered them both.
Package still MIA with no sign of Mr Hanks anywhere, I went back to work and wondered how, out of a stupid conversation I had managed to sell two Neil Gaiman/Dave McKean books without even trying but none of my own.
Note to self: fix this.