Getting around to things
I am notoriously bad at getting around to things, both professionally and in private life. If I ever needed an addition to my nick then it would become "poons the procrastinator". So when I left work today at 3pm I was gonna go a for a couple of pints and then head home. Last night was a bit of heavy poker night and 4 hours sleep normally makes Dave a tired boy, but for some reason I found myself in Waterstones buying a (the last) copy of Out of the Tunnel by Rachel North
. Rachel had warned us that since the demise of The Friday Project, copies may become scarce so I bought a copy, headed off to my hostelry of choice and settled into my favourite corner seat for said couple of pints.
I left the pub 7 hours later having read Rachel's account of 7/7 and the subsequent events with 7 pints of Arthur Guinness's' finest coursing through my veins, and oddly I don't feel that drunk.
I've laughed (calling the older copper Bill is subtle comedy gold).
I've giggled (sorry Rachel but the balloon bursting incident just tickled me).
And I cried (silent tears - although there was one sob towards the end) in the pub, full of people who know me well enough to ask what I was reading that had such an effect. I've left my copy with Amy the barmaid and I understand there is already a list of people who also want to read said tome.
I've never read a book from cover to cover in one sitting, and I suspect I never will again.
Rachel has produced a work that is enthralling, and unlike a lot of blog "spin-offs", to use a crass term, gives a real insight into what it is like to be both a story and the story teller. And what a story.
I've followed Rachel's blog from early days but the book fills in the gaps. As Rachel says in the book, she deliberately held back because she felt to show weakness would hinder the progress of the fellow member of King's Cross United. That is a selfless act beyond belief.
I've just been on a roller coaster, but as I step off I know two things.
Life some time deals you cards that you don't understand how to play, unless you realise that they are the cards and you have just got to play them to the best of your ability.
and more importantly
Fear breeds Hate.
Perhaps I am drunk now I've sat down to write this. Tommorrow I may read this and cringe, but as type I this and ponder the publish post button I know that a very special lady who laid her everything in 280 pages of gripping writing deserves this gushing praise.