Common People
Ah… fan mail. You have to love it. Especially when it belongs to somebody else. My latest, from a very enthusiastic Italian gentleman, proudly informs me that I am the greatest keyboard player alive, and that I was particularly impressive in Dave Gilmour’s On An Island, live in Rome, on the 26th March 2006. It pleases me greatly that somebody believes my keyboard sounds and musical ear to be unrivalled. Should I return the correspondence, I will apparently make this Italian fan the happiest man in the world.
I did return the email, though I doubt it drove him wild with delight once I clarified that I’m not that Rick Wright. Bless. The only confusing thing is that he must have contacted me via an email link on my website, which proudly lists the various books I’ve written or contributed to. I suppose idol worship can render you momentarily blind to what you’re seeing.
Other fan mail I’ve received in the past has come from American students, hoping I’ll clear up points relating to my classic novels Native Son and Black Boy. Tempting though it is on these occasions to pretend to be a dead, black, American man, I refrain.
I need a more unusual name.
Other than that, things move on apace. I’m currently working through the story I owe to Pendragon Press, and should be finished that soon. Yesterday I popped into town to meet Tash, an old friend who dropped by Glasgow following a wedding on the weekend. Very good to see her, and the conversation raised several things I had not realised were bugging me. The great thing about my friendship with Tash is how easy it is – even after three years of not seeing each other, it feels like it was just last week. It’s wonderful to see her looking and sounding so well.
Okay, back to writing. I have a day to myself, which is a rare opportunity I shouldn’t be wasting!
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