It was stiff, and green and mysteriously dead on the porch. While I did some swearing at their early morning loudness I really have no desire to eat Mr John Roswella. I buried him in the paddock in front of the house, and heaven wept. Well it rained on me, at least.
We had a rather flat morning fishing (total bag some kelp for my garden and some saltbush to try drying.) John's mention of the next book made me have a look on Amazon. I'm sure the release date was around the 12th but either my publisher changed it or I got it wrong, because SLOW TRAIN TO ARCTURUS came out on the 30th of March. So I missed it. It was a sort precient book in many ways - it's the first serious attempt at addressing some of the issues that bedevil the really possible with present science sort of space-travel (not the warp speed and beam me up sort of thing)that sf writers have made for some time. The real issues of how we get from here to there on a trip in a small habitat, lasting many years, haven't been en vogue since Clarke's Rendesvoux with Rama and Harry Harrison's Captive Universe. I tried to keep it real (or possibly real) and yet accessible, because I am rather passionate about the idea of colonising space. Of course being me I couldn't resist satire too, so it is quite funny in among the adventures. The many little isolated habits - islands if you will - had a lot of material for it. I didn't -- when I wrote this book -- anticipate living on a remote island myself! I wish I'd done so before I wrote it. I would have had a better understanding of Ferries.
Anyway I look forward to my author copies showing up at the Island post office. Any day now, I'm sure.