by Craig Robertson

Book Stock Signings

There’s no bad side to a new book coming out. How can there be?


But if there is a tiny, hardly-worth-mentioning drawback of sorts then it’s signing books. Not when people buy them and thrust them under your nose – that bit’s perfectly fine. More than fine. It’s really quite good.

Stock signings aren’t usually quite so much though. Not when you have to sign hunners of them at once. (For anyone outside Glasgow, hunners is an official term for any number greater than 47). I know, I know, this is ridiculous whining and I really am glad I have to sign them because the alternative is not signing them.
But last Friday morning, complete with post-pub quiz hangover, I had to sign 850 of them. That was officially hunners. Thankfully the good folk of Harper Collins warehouse in Bishopbriggs, namely Marie and Neil, looked after me. They made sure I got the medicine I needed to cure my sore head – black pudding, haggis, sausages, potato scones and fried egg. It was great.

Duly fortified and fattened, I scrawled my signature on all 850 books that were destined for Scottish stores. It took just a bit under three hours and by the end my right hand was in as good a shape as Abu Hamza’s. It was all worth it though and Marie and Neil’s chat took most of the pain away. They passed on tales of previous signing visits by the likes of Michael Barrymore and Chris Eubank that I couldn’t possibly repeat unless bribed.

The shiny new hardback copies of The Last Refuge are now winging their way to bookshops all over the country. If you wanted to buy one then that would make me happy.
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