Well Harrogate was great fun. There were unfortunately, no murders. Nary a power cut either, necessitating a negligee clad huddle in the lobby under flickering candle light wondering Who Was Missing.

There were however, lots of free books, lots of parties and I am living proof that one can live on canapes and wine. Oh and the friendly person in the corner looking like a be-spectacled science teacher was always Jeffrey Deaver . I have had autopsies explained to me by Kathryn Fox with the aid of a cuddly Grommit and a table knife and Tess Gerritson ominously pointed out that a lot of people wake up in the morgue..... Robert Crais quite turned a girl's head despite wearing a hideous tie which he quickly admitted belonged to Harlan Cobden, not him. Stuart Macbride and I shared a smoking habit - he drew something quite silly in my book - and I got mistaken for 'someone in publishing' by an editor who got quite puzzled when he saw a non-crime book in my handbag and asked how much I had paid for it. £6.99, I said. He was quite amazed that I got in under £7k and wondered if I'd like to work for him. Well it was a publishing party and I was wearing killer heels so maybe that's where the confusion came from.

All of the authors I met, despite writing stuff that would turn your hair grey*, were throughly nice, friendly, mild-mannered people who were not frightening in the least, despite having to sleep with the light on after reading their books. But Andy McNab was the complete opposite. Nice books, just right for a bit of escapist readin but damned frightening in the flesh. And he nearly broke my hand when he shook it.

And I met Simon Theakston. Yes, of Theakston's brewery. Who gave me free beer and is offering a two-year readership up in Masham. I think I'm in love.

*Must book in with Maurice & Stefan to make quite sure I am pristine however