Antlers have been scrubbed, a balloon bought and a trip to Greggs planned. When we first had the idea of starting up a publishing company, I ironed a shirt and went to see the bank manager. Mr Braithwaite was a cross dresser from Burnley in his late forties and an obsessive Gilbert and Sullivan fan who, at the drop of a feather boa, would perform act 2 of THE MIKADO whilst tilling up.
Apparently if newsletters are to work, I have to empathise, get all your reading ducks in a row, and have a story that will have you laughing and weeping into your Sunday roast. And I do. It involves double-barrelled literary agents, the Ivy restaurant in London, and the second son of an Earl of the realm. But more of that later. Relax, I’m not going to go Full disclosure, yet. So breathe out, and read on.