It's a while since I had a really good rant at you. I've been rambling, meandering and jibbering, but precious little ranting.
But now I have a few things to get off my chest.
I'm in Edinburgh for the book festival. My event is in about an hour, so I need to get this ranting out of my system. The thing is, I'm being put up in a really nice hotel. There's even a grand piano. Couldn't be better. But why do top hotels still put old fashioned sheets on the beds?
If I were a hotel inspector I would automatically withold two stars from any hotel that hasn't come across the existence of duvets. I thought I'd been abducted and dragged back to the 1830's last night as I hacked around in my forest of sheetery, simultaneously sweating and freezing cold. Nice image, no?
And why do they still insist on tucking the sheets in so tightly? Have they not seen that episode of Seinfeld where George pulls a muscle in his leg trying to pull the sheets out from under the corners of the matress? Surely after that no hotel can justify tucking the sheets in.
So what about the festival? So far it's really fun. Plenty wet, but I expected that. It's Edinburgh, and I've never seen anything but cold and rain here (not a complaint by the way, just trying to paint the picture for you).
We authors are very well looked after here. We even have a yurt to ourselves. That sounds painful, but it turns out a yurt isn't like a wedgie at all. I though it was. There you go, you learn stuff every Sunday. Oh, and yesterday I learned the word 'Botrysised'. Look it up.
Only downside of the festival so far is that I just ate a sandwich that was so bad it has actually put me off food. Just temporarily. I can't imagine ever eating anything again. Coming from me, as you'll know by now, that's quite a statement. It's OK - I'll be over it by tea-time.
My final thoughts on the festival for the moment - isn't it great that we authors get free internet access in our yurt? You see how different it is from a wedgie? And isn't it great that the only thing I've seen authors using this free internet access for is checking their facebook pages?
Right, that's it. I'm off to beat a man to death with a half-eaten, butter-drowing sandwich.
(By the way, if you're wondering about the apostrophe in "1830's" - I'm right. Too much butter in my system to explain why at the moment, but trust me on this.)