Thursday, May 29, 2003

Time to kill; the driver. (Repunctuate as needed.)

E-mail from Kim Thompson of Fantagraphics pointing out that he put the wrong telephone number on the fax they sent me (and everywhere else). The Fantagraphics number is actually the memorable 1-206-524-1967. The free number is still 800 657 1100.

Um, sorry to bother you, but the margins in the journal have gone all wonky again. There's a lot of left to right scrolling going on in order to read the journal. In small quantities, that's cool, in large quantities, it hurts my eyes. Ow.

Not sure what's happening -- I noticed yesterday on Lorraine's iMac that the margins were too wide, but on the Windows machines I've looked at it at, under Internet Explorer and under Opera, the margins are behaving themselves perfectly. (All explanations and suggested fixes gratefully received).

Typing this at the airport. Have several hours downtime at the airport. Harper Collins sent a driver to get me to the airport on time. The moment I knew for certain this was not going to happen the way it was meant to was the same moment I realised the driver had got so confused that he had got onto the freeway going the wrong way, and that after an hour on the road, I was almost home... First time I've missed a flight in about five years. (I am, by nature, enormously disorganised. So I compensate for a natural tendency to miss trains and busses and planes and sometimes entire countries by trying very hard not to miss them. It normally works.)

I'll do some reading and some writing...

I just read an article that gave me a total Neverwhere flash:
The miniature underground train that hauls mail around London will be closing this week. I know they are doing it for financial reasons, but it still makes me sad. The idea of mail being sent around by tiny underground train is just too wonderful.

Anyway, I thought you'd like to know what's up in London Below.

Katherine Olson

You can actually see that little train in the BBC Neverwhere series. Mr Vandemar uses it to run over Varney, after the bodyguard trials. (Neverwhere trivia: the scream of pain and collapse from Varney, just before this happens, is not just acting. Nick, the actor, had caught his foot on the rail tracks and broken his ankle.)

And Nick Setchfield sends this....

Thought you might be tickled by this link:

It's put together by a friend of mine named Jim Friedlander (whose dad,
strangely enough, was the BBC FX man who sculpted the head of Davros).
Jim also plays in the band Lincoln, and this site is a
secret and twisted part of the Lincoln website.



it falls into the "don't ask, just click on it and trust me" category. Really. Go on. You'll thank me one day.