A few weeks ago I took a trip home to visit my mother. I went along to rehearsal with her and saw my old English teacher, a man I love partially because he taught me the difference between ‘immoral’ and ‘amoral’ and opened up the Third Way for me.
Somewhere, though, there must surely be a limit, a line I won’t cross. Some piece of tarty shameless self-promotion I won’t indulge in. There still might be, but this isn’t it. I just came into possession of a box full of pictures of my breasts. Not Safe For Work is available to buy now: get in quickly and compensate for the simple fact that my mother is never going to speak to me again.
If you have an old favourite column, it’s probably in there. If you have a new favourite, it isn’t. There’s also a bunch of brand shiny new content, including a new Up Front Guide and Advice for Children that will see me going straight to the Special Hell. Curious as to what it is that rugby has taught me about sex? Of course you are.
There are a whole bunch of people I should thank for ever getting to this point, not least my surgical team. Fortunately, though, I don’t have to do that here. I can do it in major centres in the company of wonderful people and drinks.
The Up Southerly Front Book Tour is launching Not Safe For Work alongside The Reserve Bank Annual, a cunning plan that will make me look harmless and downright sane.
Wellington PASers will be able to join us in, I shit you not, the Grand Hall of the Beehive from 6-8pm on Friday the 27th of November. From 7:30 onwards, however, people are welcome to gather at the Thistle Inn for the Hubris-organised portion of the evening, which I’m conservatively going to predict to be ‘less formal’. Jo and I have been in the same room before and no-one died, so that’s bound to happen again.
Earlier that day, if you can’t make it or like to fondle books before you buy them, Dr Haywood and I will be available to condescendingly scrawl our names across frontispieces* and possibly practice hilarity-ensuing readings at Arty Bees Bookshop on Manners St from 1-2pm. Yes, Wellington, you get a whole lot of lovin’.
Then we’ll be taking the Book Tour up-country and hitting Auckland. We’ll book-launch at the Velvet Room on Sale St on the 2nd of December, looking at a 6:30 start. (Somebody has to sprint from some kind of television studio or something.) I’ll be in Auckland for some days after this for further shenanigans, but that’s a secret until it isn’t.
Oh Christchurch, we haven’t forgotten you. Nor are we ignoring you like we are Hamilton and Dunedin and all those other towns. Date and venue for the Christchurch launch are still to be confirmed, but we’re looking at the second week in December.
But all this talk of alcohol and girls in low-cut dresses should not distract you from today’s serious business. Go, mark your calendar, and then come back to your keyboard, and buy my bloody book. Who else is going to keep my children in Apple products? Not their grandmother, that’s for sure.
*I’ve now had it explained to me that ‘frontispiece’ is not, in fact, a euphemism.
