I’m not one
for conspiracy theories. But the copy of Alan Shatter’s book, Laura, a story you’ll never forget, was
supposed to be shipped on Wednesday according to the ever efficient Amazon.com,
only I got an email yesterday from the bookseller to say they were out of
stock, promptly followed by a refund email. What can I say, were they being
greedy and thought they’d make a hundred dollars more? It went up from 1 cent in the
UK last week to thirty dollars (what I paid) as of today it’s 165 pounds and, I
kid you not, three copies are 999 dollars each in USA.
I’ve found
one on Donedeal with a lady on the North Side for 50 euro, but oh, dear, that is such a lot of food I
could buy instead, unless of course I can read it, review it quickly (I feel
that won’t be a problem) and re-sell it. I have another trick up my sleeve but
saying nothing until I have it in my hand.
Enough bibliophile undercover activities, I wrote a post about the Surreal Moment in
Leinster House last Thursday, not realising the effort would take the stuffing out of me when
I got home. Though the stories from the group of women in Termination for
Medical Reasons brought my own experience back to me and caused a flood of
tears, it was the weight of emotion in the room and the compassion from all but
two of the audience (the two that left rather obviously before the end, Peter Mathews and Fidelma
Healy-Eames) that overcame me at home. It was the kind of evening to be wrapped
in a blanket and watch trash TV with chocolate and red wine. Which is exactly
why I record Revenge and enjoy my guilty pleasure all the more, can’t wait to
see what Laura and her guilty pleasures are all about.
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