Part 1 of 3: Late March/Early April
My trip at the end of March and beginning of April was a combination of a book signing in Liverpool and a research trip to the Western Balkans. Between the two, it’s the kind of adventure that could easily eat 10,000 words if I let it. I’m not going to let it.
So here’s Part One: the UK.
The plan, when we flew across from Canada, was to land at Heathrow and drive up to Scotland rather than catch a connecting flight to Glasgow. On paper, this seemed reasonable. In practice, we had just stepped off an overnight transatlantic flight and then got in a car and drove the length of Britain. We made it in one piece, but we will not be doing that again. Next time, we fly.
Scotland was lovely, as it always is. It was also where I’d sent all my preorders and books ahead of the signing — my in-laws had very generously agreed to store not just boxes of books but banners, tablecloths, and a ridiculous quantity of swag. They’re amazing. On the Friday, we loaded everything up and drove south to Liverpool.
I was genuinely excited about this one. I went to university in Liverpool in the late eighties, so going back for a book signing felt a little surreal — it’s a bit different from marine biology, which is what I was studying at the time.
Liverpool now is nothing like it was in the eighties. If you’re old enough to remember the Toxteth riots, you’ll know what I mean. My brother was there during that period; I arrived shortly after. The city was pretty depressed, to put it mildly, though it had a lot going for it as a student town. The transformation since has been genuinely remarkable.
The signing was held at the Adelphi Hotel, which I remembered well from my student days — I’d attended several balls there but had never actually stayed. We’d also been assigned an ecology experiment outside the hotel by Prof. Mike Begon that almost got us beaten up by the local cabbies who thought we were from the tax office. Let’s just say the old girl has seen better days and could use some serious TLC. That said, the event itself was great fun. The Four Brits Book Fest was a new crowd for me, and I got to meet a lot of readers I’d never encountered before. Hopefully some of them will wander toward my books.
The night before the signing, my husband (who was also serving as my signing assistant — he’s a good sport) and I had dinner with my German translator, who’d come up to Liverpool especially for the event. That was a real treat. As for the city itself, I think I recognized one street.
At midnight, we were treated to an impromptu firework display in the middle of the road right outside our hotel window. This was a treat–not.
After the signing, we drove down to Shropshire, where I’m from, to decompress and drop off the books, banners, and remaining swag at my parents’ house. Having relatives dotted around the UK is one of the great logistical advantages of my life.
The final leg of the UK trip involved driving down to London — and we took a slight detour through the Cotswolds to stop at Jeremy Clarkson’s farm shop and his pub, The Farmer’s Dog. My husband bought me some notebooks with rude words on the covers, which I appreciated enormously. In a slightly odd coincidence, we passed just west of Broadway, the village where I’d spent nine days last December for a writing retreat, which made the world feel very small.
We dropped the hire car at Gatwick, spent the night, and the next morning flew out to Dubrovnik.
Part 2: Howling gales, a taxi up a mountain, and the border into Bosnia.
