I wasn’t expecting anything in today’s mail, so when I heard the parcel delivery van pull in to the driveway, I sent Murphlet 3 out to collect the package, presuming it wasn’t for me.
‘I think it’s a book,’ he said, when he brought it in.
‘I’ll open it in a minute I sad,’ busy with an email. When I did get up to open it it occurred to me that maybe this was indeed something I’d been waiting for. And when I opened it, I squealed with delight and raced around the house. What was in it? This:
Just the book, not the soda water, which I poured to toast the book. The feeling of holding the first copy of a new book in my hands never diminishes. Nor does the pride in seeing my name on the front cover.