August has been a good month for books that I like.
At the start of the month, all my attention was focused on my favourite red-headed geek, Felicia Day, and her lovely “You’re Never Weird On The Internet (Almost)”. A book which, when attempting to buy it in Edinburgh, was like trying to track down genuine Rocking Horse droppings. Even with a shop assistant who went “Oh, it’s got Felicia Day on the front – how can I not find that?” before failing miserably to find it, it took several days for it to appear from the “We have one in stock” to “Yaay, I own it.”
And I read it and I loved it and I might have cried a little at some of it, but it could have been allergies or smoke in the air or something. It might not have been the book.
And then today it was the day I have been waiting for for a long time. Frances off of the Great British Bake Off has written a book. And it’s finally out. I have been waiting a long time. Not necessarily patiently. But I have waited and waited and waited and waited and then when it came out today I did what any person who has waited that long for the book would do.
I went off into Leeds to buy it in my half-hour lunch break.
I could have pre-ordered it. But it’s a hardback book, so that would mean that if I’d ordered it from Amazon it would have come in a box large enough to house a small family. And I’m not a big fan of having all my deliveries sent to work because it already partly feels like I live there, if I start having my post redirected then I may as well just get myself a favourite chair.
So rather than pre-order it I chose to hot-tail it to WHSmith’s who were once the go to place for books and things.
Wow, it’s a long time since I have been in a WHSmith. Times have changed. Where once there was every book you could imagine, now there are books which wouldn’t look out of place in The Works. Or books allowing you to wear a mask of Harry off of One Direction’s face. Made out of cardboard. Not Harry’s actual face.
But what there isn’t – or wasn’t – was bloody Quinn’s book.
By the time I’d finished dithering about, noticing that they did have a copy of Felicia’s book on display, I had ten minutes of my lunch left. It takes about ten minutes to get from WHSmith’s to work.
So I did what anyone would do.
I went the other way.
Up to Waterstones. A hop, skip and a jump away. Okay, a few minutes walk away. I was now, officially, a rebel. With a cause. But a rebel none the less.
But still a rebel who couldn’t quite cope with being a full on rebel. A good two-shoes rebel, of a sort, who reasoned that, with a stroke of luck, they could make it back to work on time. It’s a new book, I figured it would be on display near the door.
Nope. Or if it was, it was well hidden. I could see Jamie Oliver’s massive head gurning up from his latest anti-butter (or some ingredient he used to use by the fricking skip-load) cookbook, but not Frances’ wooden spoon-pencil affair.
Now I was officially in rebel territory as I had to run up the stairs (embellished for dramatic effect, I walked) and then find cookery. It’s not called cookery, because that would be too easy. It’s food and drink in Waterstones. Gardening is still Gardening and not Grass And Plants, but Cookery is Food And Drink.
But at least I found the book. And bought the book. And raced back to work where I was late back and a total of zero people noticed.
So I just sat there for a bit and read the book, and worked out what order I am going to make everything in there. Twice. Except perhaps the meringue swans because coconut wings.. and it was going so well up to that point.
It’s Malted Milk Tiffin first, although the barley malt extract is (was, not anymore) proving harder to find than Felicia Day’s book…