I am unbelievably tired.  Also, exceptionally married.  All has gone to plan.

This strange and marvellous week started Sunday evening, when we picked our friend Jackie up from Glasgow airport.  I’ve known Jackie for eight or nine years, but until now we’ve only met online, initially reading each other’s bloggish ramblings, then through email.  Among her many talents, Jackie is a photographer, and when she found out a wedding was on the cards she volunteered her services.  Perfect excuse to spend time with her in real life, and I’m still stunned and delighted that she came all the way from Seattle to do just that.  Over the past few days, in between bouts of photography, we’ve seen plays while drinking pints and eating pies, wandered the West End of Glasgow chatting, attempted to steal coffee at the Stravaigin, eaten pizza, celebrated her birthday with seafood and wine at Two Fat Ladies, and washed down home cooked rack of lamb with very fine champagne at our house.  Not entirely sure how we managed to fit it all in, with everything else going on, but glad we did.  I count her as a very good friend.  Well, I always did, but it’s lovely that she exceeded my expectations in real life.

The wedding itself was on Thursday, and it also exceeded both my expectations, and those of my gorgeous bride Kirsty.  She looked stunning, and happy, and it was lovely to see everything I was feeling on her face.  Our daughter Eva had a good time too, though she upstaged us somewhat when she decided her wand of flowers would make a good microphone and held it to our faces as we each took our respective vows…

As for the rest, it was exactly as we wanted it – vows, good food, and then everyone kicking back and relaxing.  The food was superb, but for all that the duck terrine, sea bass, and chocolate pudding were great, the evening buffet seemed to be the most popular part of the day.  We had decided against finger food, and instead opted to have white rolls with bacon, lorne sausage, and potato scone available to all.  A popular move.

Overall though, it was the people that made the wedding great.  We know some excellent, excellent specimens, and getting them altogether in one place was fantastic, especially given how far some had come (Australia and Seattle being the furthest, but from all corners of the UK too).  If you were one of them, thank you so much for helping to make the day everything it was.  If you sent best wishes by email, Facebook, etc, thank you too.  It all went into the pot.

I would now like to sleep for a week.  Unfortunately, if I did that, I’d wake up with only a couple of days left to get us all to India, and that wouldn’t work at all.  Damn.

There has now been a wedding.  It has been a strange and wonderful week.  I shall definitely come back and write about it, at some point.

Now I have to do some sitting still and staring at things.

It’s been an insanely productive day. I need to sit down for a bit.

First up, we bought the rings. Palladium for me (on order), platinum for the lady (in the bag). Very nice they look too. When you buy wedding rings at John MacIntyre, who were lovely and helpful, they give you lots of chocolates. An excellent business model.

Straight after that, we sorted the favours for the wedding day, which were something of a chance find, and delighted us both. I popped up the road to get a gift for my best man Mark, who is fortunately extremely easy to buy for, while Kirsty attended to critical make-up purchases. A quick coffee, then she went across to the West End to order the flowers. I now have some heather to shove in my buttonhole, apparently, wrapped in red ribbon to match the soles of Kirsty’s Christian Boutin shoes (I think it’s Christian Boutin – I’m a bloke, so shoes are just shoes to me).

You’d be surprised how much of my wedding is now themed to match the soles of Kirsty’s wedding shoes.

While she was doing that, I went off to organise my wedding outfit, a black kilt with a Bonnie Prince Charlie jacket and five button waistcoat. When I told the chap in menswear that the wedding was on the 17th, he went a peculiar colour and made strange noises. “But… but… it’s wedding season,” he said, looking at me as though I’d asked him to stick pins in his own testicles. “Don’t you know it’s wedding season?”

Apparently, I’m doing everything at the last minute.

Anyway, it’s all ordered, and should be here for a fitting next week. Nor was that the end of achieving things. The flights to Delhi are now paid for, the Indian visas are on their way,the car’s booked to pick us up and take is to the airport, and another is arranged to collect us and take us to our new house in India when we land. I’ve ordered massive amounts of luggage for our unaccompanied air freight, and there’s probably stuff done today that I’ve forgotten about just now.

Productive, as I mentioned. It can’t last, but tonight, there will be congratulatory pizza.

Edited to add: not heather. For the buttonholes. I’m a dope. Thistles.

Mind you, there were a lot more countdowns a month or so ago. They’re vanishing fast.

Today we posted the wedding banns (well, Kirsty did, through insane traffic, on her way to work), which is basically giving the official confirmation to the registrars of the date, time, witnesses, etc. Cutting it a bit fine, to be honest, as tomorrow’s the last day we could legally have done so if we wanted to keep the 17th as the date, but that is how we roll, in da lingo of da yoof. We’re also sorting out the final guest list, as the final yeas and nays come in. Some inevitable disappointments, though all with good reason. I’ll miss my brother and his mob the most, I think, but such is life. Plenty of fine people are still attending though, and I’m starting to really look forward to it.

That said, last night I woke every couple of hours, all night. I think it was anxiety. That almost never happens to me. Natural enough, I suppose. I keep being told that moving house, getting married, and changing your job are the three most stressful things you can put yourself through, and Kirsty and I have timed it all for the same week. Hey ho.

All the more important that I pick up some exercise again, now that Kirsty’s back and our routine is getting back to nearly normal. A four mile run tonight, so that should see me sleep some. Hopefully.

I leave you with the shocking news headline UK teenage girls “worst drunks”, which strikes me as entirely incorrect. Surely, on the available evidence, they’re actually the best drunks?

A productive weekend, if I do say so. First, a meeting at One Devonshire Gardens, where I’ll be getting married in a month and a half. They really are making things about as easy as it’s possible for a wedding to be, helped enormously by the fact that we’re not inviting many people. I’m really starting to look forward to it, especially having now chosen the menu, which I’m expecting to be a highlight of the day (marriage itself aside!). Screw the small talk and bring on the main course. We grabbed a dress for Eva to wear too, and Kirsty already has her wedding dress. I’m hiring a kilt ensemble, having decided that never having worn a skirt for formal occasions, the best time to start will be an already massively stressful day, but I’m booked in for measurements in a couple of weeks. All smooth, so far.

Just as well, as it occurs to me that two months from right now, we’ll be married, and on a plane to India. Our worldly goods will either be packed up in UK storage, or following us by slow coach (we could be without it for three months or so, apparently), depending what it is. We’ll be gone, baby. I still can’t quite believe it. Not too long ago, time was crawling by. Now it seems determined to bolt like a frightened horse.

We’re just about keeping up, I reckon. On Friday, we had the first set of vaccinations, meaning my blood is currently a lethal soup of diptheria, polio, tetanus, typhoid, meningitis, japanese encephalitis, and hepatitis A. It was, as ever with jabs, hardly the horror I had built up in my head. As Kirsty says, the good thing about going to a private travel clinic where the nurse does nothing but give injections all day, is that they’re reallygood at it. Quick and easy, though we couldn’t really raise our arms above our heads for the next twenty-four hours or so. Thankfully, as I mentioned elsewhere, I almost never need to do that. Eva was particularly brave, no histrionics at all (in fact, she was looking forward to it), which makes me suspect she may have been possessed by the wraith of a much older person. She’s only five. She’s supposed to be terrified of needles, not hurrying us along the street to be injected.

Anyway, we have another two visits to finish off the courses, then we’re functionally immortal.

Or something like that.

Finally, you may recall that later this year I have a story called ‘Hermanesha’ in Withersin magazine. To help you figure out whether the magazine might be for you, they’ve released their out of print debut issue Birth as a free PDF download. You can check it out here.

I feel as though I’m going to a job interview. Weird. It’s not as though they won’t let us marry there if we fail to impress. They want our money, after all, and that’s all they’re really interested in.

I wonder if there will be a test….

In the meantime, I have three days away from the day job. Also, I found life’s ‘reset’ button, and will be pressing it on Monday. This is a good thing, and nobody will notice but me. It’s quite a big button. I’m amazed I haven’t seen it before…

A new review and an interview, just in…

Issue 31 of the print magazine Dark Realms carries a review of Beneath the Surface which says several nice things, included among them “Beneath the Surface is a first-rate horror anthology that delivers a thoroughly enjoyable collection of fiendishly fun tales.” Don’t take their word for it though. Find out for yourself by grabbing a copy here.

Over at Unreality SF you can check out an interview with Richard Salter, who talks in detail about Short Trips: Transmissions, the Doctor Who anthology I’ll have a story in next month (indeed, he gives you a flavour of that story, among others…). It’s interesting reading, and should fuel your curiosity. With the 2008 series of Doctor Who fast approaching what looks to be a ballistic conclusion, which will no doubt involve a cliffhanger for Tennant’s Doctor number 10 that won’t be resolved until the Xmas special, you’re going to be in the perfect mood to time travel the other way, and distract yourself with previously unseen adventures from his past lives. You can, of course, pre-order the book right now if you choose.

But I’m saving my masterstroke for later. I’m just waiting for the right moment to slip it into conversation. She’ll love it.

Come here. I’m going to whisper it. Don’t tell her, okay? Got to wait until the time’s right…

Indiana Jones theme wedding…

Yep, she’ll go for it. It’s in the bag.

1. When am I getting married?
2. Who is Hiram Grange?
3. How is the running going?*

For those who have just tuned in, the first two questions are entirely unrelated. I am not marrying Hiram Grange. Just to be clear.

So…

1. I don’t know. Next year some time. Probably. Please stop asking. When I know, I’ll tell you. But thank you for the messages, I’m very happy too!
2. Well, chopped from the link I sent you too last time, he’s “one of the most entertaining anti-heroes in modern dark literature, an awkward, gangly, unlikely hero who suffers addictions to absinthe, opium, and sex.  A man as flawed and complex as he is capable and deadly. Hiram is a clandestine operative for the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs, a secret organization funded and controlled by a sect within the Freemasons.” And, because I’ve signed a non-disclosure contract, that’s as much as I can tell you. Really. If the publisher doesn’t release the info, I can’t either. So, you’re allowed to know that I’m one of a team of writers who have developed the character and bible (the super-secret background and continuity document). You’re allowed to know that there will be an initial season of five novellas, each a standalone story, but featuring an ‘arc plot’ that threads them together. Finally, you’re allowed to know that my book, Hiram Grange and the Nymphs of Krakowis the season finale. And that’s it. More will be forthcoming, and I don’t mind admitting that I’m having so much fun with the project that I almost feel guilty about it. You will too, I hope. Follow the link back, and look at that top image by Malcolm McClinton, who is currently looking to do all five book covers, along with interior illustrations. That’s almost as much as you need to know. Hiram Grange. Remember his name…
3. Not good. After a groin injury that is only just dying down, it’s been way too long since my last run. Tomorrow, I’ll be gingerly testing the leg out, and seeing how it holds up. It’s been maddening, not being able to make any progress, and I’ve actually missed it (never thought I’d say that…). Fingers crossed for tomorrow, as there’s only three months until the half marathon. Dear god…

*okay, this isn’t true. Nobody has asked this. Sorry. Just making conversation.