I will always miss what I Havant …
Which is a truly awful pun (or as the great master, Terry Pratchett, is wont to say, pune) but I had to make it, as I shall be in Havant and it was too good an opportunity to waste. Actually, as a writer, I think I have an obligation to pun – it’s definitely in one of the contracts, somewhere, possibly the one I signed in blood when I was a sulky teenager busily failing all my GCSEs (don’t worry if you failed all yours, it’s not your last chance to make anything of your life, despite what teachers have been telling you for months).
Anyway, back to Havant. I shall take some seeds, obviously, to swap or give away or sprinkle on roundabouts like the good fairy of gardening that I am. Maybe some jam … I wonder if the nice folk of Havant would like to do a jam tasting? Or does that sound a bit Women’s Institute? I wouldn’t like to trespass on their territory: the WI enforcers are fearsome!
Perhaps I should turn up in my gardening gear. Although that would seem both a bit arch and rather as if I didn’t value the lovely people who paid for tickets which is not my intention. But if I turn up as me, I always fear I’ll be a disappointment – surely they’re expecting some kind of Percy Thrower with breasts?
The thing is, I never set out to be a writer on things horticultural, and so I don’t have a template for the person who pitches up to talk about Minding My Peas and Cucumbers at events literary and social. It’s all a bit peculiar.
Maybe I should take pumpkins …
Labels: Havant Literary Festival, Percy Thrower, pumpkins, Terry Pratchett