The day was Wednesday. The weather was, err … wet, very wet, and the The Boathouse was grotty (as it turns out), but Wallingford (as nice as it sounds) was a convenient meeting place (and half way between Bicester and Reading roughly) to talk novels with soulsong for close on three hours.
It was a useful time, giving and receiving (and to paraphrase last nights Friends repeat – having and sharing) ideas about how each other’s novels should go and working through difficulties in agreeable company.
It was also interesting, in that this was the first time that I have met someone (in the real) who I have previously met *online* good to put a voice to the name and the face! So the scare stories are just that, and *not all* the people you can meet *online* don’t turn out to pyschopathic axe murderers with a crazed vendetta against the world (although I’m sure that some of them are it’s just that I haven’t met them yet)