Fairy Music

In The Good Fairies of New York, the young fairies Heather and Morag both play the violin, and they both pride themselves on their versions of Tullochgorum. This was a famous Scottish tune, back when traditional tunes were famous. It's a strathspey, a sort of slow reel. It was first recorded in a Scottish manuscript in 1734, and is presumably older than that.

The tune is important throughout The Good Fairies. Last time I did a reading, someone asked me what it sounded like. I considered humming it but restrained myself, fearing I'd sound ridiculous. Which I would have, undoubtedly. So that I may never be tempted to hum this tune to anyone, here it is on Youtube, played by Natalie MacMaster. Tullochgorum is the first tune here, it's followed by a few other reels.



After my tale of the injuries suffered during last week's life or death struggle with a spider in the kitchen, sympathy poured in from the general public. Most of it for the spider, I must admit. There was widespread anxiety about the spider's health. Apparently these creatures have friends and supporters everywhere. Hah. When giant mutant spiders are marauding through your home, spreading destruction, don't say I didn't warn you.

Household Accidents

Spotting a spider high up on the kitchen wall, I climbed onto a kitchen unit, clutching a rolled up magazine. (You may wish to tell yourself I was intending to shuffle it to safety) And then, as I approached the creature, it suddenly scuttled towards me in a very aggressive manner, causing me lose my footing and fall off the kitchen unit. I hit the ground, careered backwards till I slammed my head against an open cabinet door, then plummeted to the floor. Leaving me dazed and confused, and the final score standing at Spider 1, Millar 0.

Later, rather morosely drinking a cup of tea and watching cartoons, I reflected that I seem to have a lot of household accidents. I'm forever stubbing my toe on things, or breaking stuff. I have a Homer Simpson-like ability to burn my fingers by sticking my hand under the hot tap to see how hot the water is. Invariably, the water is boiling. Is it just me, I wonder, or does everyone stumble around their house from one disaster to another?

Fazi has made an Italian Myspace page for their edition of Lonely Werewolf Girl. And yesterday I completed a brief interview for an Italian teen magazine, so that's a good start to the release in Italy.

Arsenal take on Manchester United in the cup on Saturday. Feelings are already running high in the Millar household. Experts predict that abuse directed towards the TV may rise to dangerous and critical levels during this game.

Ragazze Lupo

Lonely Werewolf Girl comes out in Italy at the end of March, published by Fazi, under the title of Ragazze Lupo. Here it is on the publisher's website. So that will be the first foreign translation of Lonely Werewolf Girl and I'm very pleased about it. The Good Fairies of New York was quite successful in Italy so I'm optimistic about the prospects for this.

American and Greek editions are on the way. Annoyingly, the German publisher of The Good Fairies of New York doesn't want to publish Lonely Werewolf Girl. This seems strange, as their German edition of The Good Fairies has remained in print for many years. Anyway, my agents are actively looking for a new German publisher.

As recently threatened, I am now clad in a new Suzy Quatro T-shirt, and am wearing it at this moment. It's a really fine garment. I would put a picture here, if I actually had a working camera, which I don't at the moment. I may be the only person in the Western hemisphere without a camera. Must rectify this soon.

And now I must return to the couch, for a fortifying sleep, as I'll need my strength later for watching football. There are matches on Saturday, Sunday and Monday, and this is quite a tough schedule, as I do a lot of shouting and shaking my fist at the TV.

Beau Millar

I'm currently reading a large biography of Beau Brummel, by Ian Kelly. Brummel was such an interesting character. At the time of the Regency (c. 1800) he was described as a dandy, but his dandyism consisted of simplifying men's clothes, rather than wearing anything outlandish. He was the originator of modern men's dress, and helped to re-define the way that modern gentlemen regarded themselves.

He was an intelligent man. After his classical education at Eton, he could fire off witty epigrams in Greek and Latin, which I admire. Not that you would have wanted to go to Eton in those days, a hotbed of beatings and abuse. Though apparently Brummel avoided most of the beatings by being such a witty character.

I wish I had a cool nickname like Beau. Beau Millar. That would be good. Of course, it would mean I'd have to dress well. Which obviously I don't. Am currently debating whether to buy a Marc Bolan or a Suzy Quatro T-shirt. It's a tough choice. Perhaps I will have to buy both. A re-incarnated Beau Brummel, of course, would not wear such an item. It's fortunate I don't have any children. I'd be a dreadfully embarrassing father. Soon my nephews and nieces will shun me when I arrive in my Suzy Quatro T-shirt, and deny being related to me.

Here is Suzy Quatro, in her 70s glam heyday -

Biscuit Mystery Update

For months now I've been staring gloomily at the biscuit shelves in the local supermarket, unable to fathom why they no longer sell plain hobnobs, my favourite biscuits. And then trudging home rather morosely clutching a packet of some inferior brand to eat with a cup of tea.

There seemed to be no possible reason why these biscuits had disappeared from the supermarket. The finest minds were baffled. It just didn't make sense. Sources informed me they were still available in other locations but they had completely vanished from my locality. The shelves were bulging with chocolate hobnobs and all other types of cookies but there was just no sign of my preferred brand.

And then, yesterday, I wandered round into the next aisle and there they were! The supermarket had moved all the plain biscuits round the corner. I hadn't realised this. I've been staring at the wrong shelf for months.

Naturally, I was outraged. I was tempted to storm up to the customer desk and give them a piece of my mind for their frankly duplicitous behaviour. But I do have to be careful. Being agoraphobic, this supermarket is the only one within range, so I can't really afford to be thrown out of the place. Which did come close to happening on one occasion, during the great potato mis-pricing scandal of 2004.

So I controlled my desire to abuse the staff, and instead loaded up my basket with hobnobs. All in all, I felt happier as I wandered home. It was treacherous of the supermarket to move these biscuits - they should know I can't cope with this sort of thing - but on the other hand, normal service at my house has now been restored. I am now full of tea and biscuits. Possibly my writing will go better now. My sequel to Lonely Werewolf Girl has been coming along rather slowly, but this might have been because of an inadequate food supply.

Recovery

Recovery continues from the life-threatening flu that almost overwhelmed me last week.

This illness didn't involve all that much congestion, being mainly high temperatures and aching muscles. However, there was a fair amount of sneezing and snuffling. Which leads me to a hypothetical question.

If - for instance - someone decided to use an old T-shirt for a week as a handkerchief - because tissues were very scratchy on his nose - and then throw the old T-shirt out, but, when it was time to throw out the old T-shirt, it turned out not to be an old T-shirt at all, but one of his favourites, used by mistake - should that person then throw this disgusting item out anyway? Or just stick it in the washing machine and wear it anyway because really, who's going to know? It's a problem.

I have another story in Skin Two fetish magazine soon, and must regain my health to be in good shape for anticipated stampede of glamorous fetish/gothic models to my door. When my modest flat is once again crammed full of the world's most beautiful women, I need to be healthy enough to make tea and be hospitable. I always like to be a polite host.

I Have Flu

I have flu. Not a cold, but your actual flu.

I haven't had flu since I was fifteen. I've always remembered how unpleasant it was, and hoped it wouldn't happen again. But here we are. Aching limbs, sweating, fever, nausea, and I can't even sleep.

Day 1 and 2 - Lay on the couch feeling like death. High temperature and aching everywhere. Entertained slight hope that it was just a bad cold and might start to get better. Despite considerable suffering, did manage to record all day Avatar special on Nicktoons. My favourite cartoon, which I need to watch for vital research purposes.

Day 3 - Fever gets worse. Unable to move. Unable to eat, sleep, or do anything. Can barely make it to kitchen for water. Abandoned all hope and lay on couch waiting to die. I live on my own. It might take weeks for my body to be discovered. I get so hot. I remove my blanket, my shirt, my socks, and I'm still burning up. I wonder what else I might do but I don't have any energy to do anything.

Taking ibuprofen helps a little. Eventually my temperature drops and then I become so cold I can hardly bear it. It's like my whole skin is aching. I have to put on more clothes, put on the heating and huddle under the quilt.

Day 4 - Alternate between sweating from fever and frozen shivering. Time really seems to drag, just lying there feeling ill, especially as I can't sleep. Unable to read or divert my attention in any way. Find myself lying dumbly in front of CNN International at 4 AM, watching Hilary Clinton win in New Hampshire. I like Hilary.

Day 5 - Start to feel a little better. Watch football on TV. Recovery almost scuppered by poor Arsenal performance against Spurs. Complete despair. Health worsens dramatically. Hopes revive after late equaliser.

Day 6 - Bad headache but flu symptoms definitely declining. Not feeling so feverish any more.

Day 7 - A little better. May survive the experience, and live to watch all the episodes of Avatar I recorded. Stupid flu.

2008. Hmm

Christmas at my brother's was less chaotic than I anticipated. My nephews - generally fond of rampaging around the house - seemed pleased with their presents, and retreated to their rooms to play with them.

One of these presents being a WWE wrestling ring complete with action figures which I would have quite liked to play with. But you know what children are like. Unwilling to do the decent thing, and move aside to let their uncles play with their new toys on Christmas day. Selfish, really.

Emerged from Christmas into a dedicated period of watching football on TV over New Year - Arsenal going well - finally poked my nose out the door yesterday and realised it's really cold out there, so retreated back inside to sleep on the couch and get over it all.

Plans are afoot to reprint Suzy, Led Zeppelin and Me some time this year. I'm pleased. It was a good book and deserved better than for the original publisher to go out of business, thereby sinking it without trace.