I AM VERY EXCITED

So, remember how I'm going to Terry Pratchett's talk at the Opera House this weekend? And how 100 ticket holders were going to be randomly selected to meet PTerry and have a book signed?

Guess who gets to meet Terry Pratchett?!

Okay, it's 30 seconds to have a book signed and there will be 99 other people waiting as well. But it's Terry Pratchett. I will take the 30 seconds, thank you.

I am now debating which book to take ... I have plenty of shiny paperbacks and glossy hardcovers but I think the book I'd really like to have signed is my old, faded copy of Witches Abroad. It's the first Discworld book I read and it's still my favourite.

Well, that was ... odd.

Watched a mockumentary, Incident at Loch Ness, tonight. It was very, very strange seeing people playing some version of themselves, rather than a fictional character. Although I sincerely hope that the real Zak Penn is nothing like the 'Zak Penn' of the film. Shallow, self-centred, an utter narcissist ... it was a terrific performance but what a revolting person.

The first half of the film/doco was kind of boring and frankly, I didn't find any of the people engaging or sympathetic (although I did love when Werner and his wife sat down before he left. 'It's a Russian superstition.' 'It's not a superstition, it's just Russian.') I mostly kept watching because I was comfortable on the sofa and I had a book if it didn't get more interesting.

The second half, which movied more into 'horror/suspense' territory was more entertaining. And I was quite delighted to note that only female in the group (bit-part actress and former Playboy model) was one of the very few displaying some intelligence and common sense. She might well have been the most sensible person in the group.

As fake documentaries go, this didn't really work for me. It tried to blur the lines in too many places and tried to do too many things at once.

 

Ride on

Brother's best mate died. Brother spent hours trying to talk him awake ... he never came out of the coma.

This guy was best man at my brother's wedding. On a dare, he shaved his (rather thin and straggly) hair into a mohawk. And while the other groomsmen were wearing black dress shoes with their sharp black suits, he wore electric blue sneakers.

He was thirty-five years old and had two small children he adored.

His family have asked people to come to the funeral in their racing gear. And I bet there will be a few motocross bikes, engines revving, as well.