One of the wonderful perks of doing my tour is that I get to travel around Britain by train.  I love trains.  I find them hopelessly romantic (but then again I would, wouldn’t I?).  They seem to transport me not just from place to place but somehow also from time to time.  I take plenty of reading with me, and my ipod, but I end up just staring and staring out the window, thrilled to see the countryside rushing past me, making up stories about the people I might glimpse as we hurtle past their windows, and generally getting lost inside my own head — a very good place for a writer to be.  By the time we entered the countryside surrounding Bath I was in a totally mesmerized state, enthralled, excited, enchanted.  I had forgotten how extraordinarily beautiful a place Bath is, it had been so long since I’d been there.  And just an hour and twenty minutes from home. Shame on me.

So my outlook on life and our world was quite positive as I waltzed into the bookstore, toting my posters and my pens.  I marched up to the person at the till and announced “Hi, I’m Sue Guiney,”  as if that declaration alone should have been enough for everyone to start scurrying around me, shaking my hand, offering me cups of tea.  But no.  What I received was a blank and troubled stare.  So, I continued.  “I’m here for my book signing….Tangled Roots….”  “Uh, um, well, just a minute.  I’ll call the manager.”  What followed was a rather tense  twenty minutes of excuses, I didn’t knows, I’m so sorrys.  Then the manager disappeared while someone else pounded the computer madly and I stood fuming.  Eventually she came back with…believe it or not…an unopened box of books.  They were there in the stockroom, just as the distributor had said they should be, but for whatever reason nobody knew about them.  But, as they say, all’s well that ends well.  The box was opened, a table and chair found, a display created, tea offered!  
And there I sat for two hours, mostly alone and smiling, sometimes chatting with 

staff, sometimes waving at babies.  It was a beautiful Friday afternoon and the shop was empty.  But I persevered, hounded down likely readers and forced my way into selling 3 books (the best yet) while having a few lovely conversations with some customers about a whole range of topics.  By the time I left (having signed the rest of the stock — that’s 18 books!), I was feeling great again and, as my very funny husband says, declaring victory and heading for the bar.  Actually, I first took myself for a little tour of the Roman Baths, then back to the hotel were I fell into a coma-like sleep before my excellent dinner (remind me to blog about dining alone on the road – I have it down to an art!).
I woke up to an absolutely gorgeous, sunny day and another short but sweet train ride to Bristol.  The staff in Bath had been so mortified by their snafu that they had called the Bristol store in advance to make sure they were expecting me, and they were. Greetings, displays, tea, all offered right off the bat. Even my wonderful publisher was there to greet me! And within ten minutes, the manager approached saying “Here is already one of your fans come to meet you.” Now, I had a couple of friends who had said they would come by, but the person following was not one of them.  Nor was he known by the publisher.  He was, indeed, actually a fan. Someone whom I had never met before, but who had been reading this blog and had decided to make the effort to drive a rather long way to meet me and buy a signed copy of Tangled Roots!  I was dumbfounded.  Ok — I know this is what the whole thing is supposed to be about after all, but really — I was so astonished, and thrilled, and grateful and amazed.  Thank you, kind reader!!
Off to a very good start.  But then I realized that a sunny Saturday afternoon is the death knell for a bookstore.  It was empty. No one in the fiction department.  An occasional straggler hovering briefly around the “For Father’s Day” table.  So I chatted with my friends who did come for a few minutes.  My publisher and I caught up on some shop talk.  And then — you know the drill by now — I sat, I smiled, I waved at babies.  I was about to be thankful for the one book I had sold and declare victory when some people began to trickle in, a few here, a few there, a few likely strikes.  Then in the last 15 minutes — 2 more sales!  Bristol’s tally:  3 sold, 18 signed, plus some great conversations with the staff and the possibility of talking to the book club they are starting.  Yes, another victory and another piece of evidence for the “you never know” department.
And, to top it off, I got back to London in time to see my younger son’s band play at his school’s Battle of the Bands concert. They ended with “Roadhouse Blues,” and needless to say, they were awesome! Victory was ours.  The bar awaited.