Cat Limbo, The 'corset, stockings and suspenders' trap for the unwary Googler, and where you can come and see me, in Real Life

If it weren't for my calendar, I'd be lost.  Literally, lost.  Temporally, I mean, I'd have trouble getting geographically lost in my own house, although I suppose that thing where you go into a room and then wonder what you went in for is the Home equivalent of driving to Cromer and then wondering why you bothered.  Not, I hasten to add, that I have anything against Cromer. Anyway.  Calendar.

I write all my appointments on my calendar, as soon as I make them, which is all lovely and nice and means that I have a record of where I'm meant to be at any given time.  Unfortunately, the calendar on which I write everything IS NOT the calendar I actually work from, because the calendar on which I write appointments is in my bedroom, tacked up to my bookcase.  I make a lot of appointments via my computer, all right?

Like this.  Only without the marshmallows.  You saw NOTHING....

 
  But the calendar that I actually LOOK AT is stuck to the back of the front door (well, it's not the actual front door, it's the door that leads to Cat Limbo, which is our name for the cold, damp, spider infested porch between the real front door and the house proper.  It's full of wellingtons and outgrown coats and recycling bins and advertising circulars and often several cats, who have come in from outdoors and not yet gained ingress to the house proper, and are therefore in Cat Limbo.  Not, you know, dead and waiting for entrance to Cat Heaven, because I think Cat Heaven is a given for any cat which has passed on.  I like to think it's a place full of pilchards and lazy mice.) and I check it for instructions before I leave for work every morning.  It's a kind of ritual, 'am I wearing my slippers? Do I have underwear on? Do I have any appointments for today?'

I think you can see where I am going with this....

Yes.  Today I happened to glance at my calendar, that's the upstairs calendar, the calendar that has all my actual things written on it, and will hereafter be known as Calendar One, and find that I have actual appointments this month that never became transferred to Calendar Two and therefore did not exist in my conscious mind!  Yes, proper writing appointments!  So, in the event of you being at a loose end on any of these dates, or having relatives you must visit in any of these places, or being a mad fan of me and wanting to press your actual eyes upon my living personage (don't get your hopes up, it's not that exciting), here are a few of them.

On Saturday 27th of October, I shall be at Waterstones in York, 1-3pm where I may (or may not) be dressed as a vampire.  I tell you this so that you don't turn up and ask why I came as a dribbling streetwalker.  That's my vampire costume, and I have false fangs in.  Probably.

On Wednesday 31 October (your actual Halloween), I shall be in Leeds, 1-3 again, similarly attired, although, since I have to go in on the train, I might not bother with the fangs, since asking for a ticket to Leeds whilst wearing enormous vampire fangs and talking through one of those speaky-gaps that makes you sound like R2D2 (no, not C3PO, and, yes, I do know the difference) may result in the purchase of a one-way ticket to Ae (which is near Dumfries.  A long way from Leeds).

On Saturday 03 November I shall be in Whitby Bookshop, again from 1-3, and yet again attired as a vampire.  It is Goth weekend, so I may well blend in, although blending in is difficult when you are wearing a corset.  My last blog post about book signings mentioned the words PVC Underwear, and has been one of the posts with the highest rate of hits..although I feel there have been some very disappointed readers, so I am hoping that mentioning the words Corset and Stockings and Suspenders will lead to an equally high number of visitors to this esteemed blog.  If you have come here as a result of googling such items of apparel - welcome!  I hope you....oh, they've gone.  Oh well, never mind.  But, yes, corset.  I should be easy to spot, I will be the one gasping asthmatically, and periodically vanishing behind my own boobs (if I duck, I can actually hide behind them for quite some time).

I will be as darkly alluring as this. Only probably less photogenic.  And less architectural, although that corset is built in a shipyard...

 Do come and see me, even if you only wish to point and laugh.  If you want to throw things, marshmallows are nice.  And also soft.