The writers welcomed me beautifully. After a hesitant start with my little story of not being able to say, as most authors do, that I wrote stories from six years old, everything seemed to go smoothly. Instead I revealed that I had kept a tiny notebook in which I recorded the titles of all the stories I read. I told them I kept it alphabetically, which was incorrect. Memory has clicked back in since Thursday, and reminded me that I didn't keep the list alphabetically, and soon couldn't find anything on the list, thus rendering it useless. Which is no doubt the real reason why I went into librarianship.
They asked lots of questions, fed me tea and a chocolate biscuit, and I recounted everything I'd learned about e-publishing. One lady said she'd found my trailer for Shadows, and liked it very much. I was amazed, and delighted to hear that. It is their practice to read out some of their own writing to the group, and allowed me to hear several pieces. They all wrote to a high standard, and I'm sure they could soon find a place in the e-publishing world - if they choose to do so.
The port of Blyth dates back to the twelfth century, and I remember reading that Richard Crawford unloaded Joleta Mallet at Blyth and took her to Flaw Valley at Hexham when she was ill on her trip from Malta. Amazing how Dunnett references still creep up on me after all these years.
There is little to see of a historic port these days. It all looked smart, clean and very 21st century. The picture of the laburnum walk at Seaton Delavell seemed appropriate, since it's quite near Blyth.