Eating the Banbury Cake …
I’m off to see the good burghers of Banbury, near Oxford, on Saturday, where I shall be signing copies of The Clavier in Waterstones from around 11am … and shall continue signing until they run out.
Idle Tom the publisher was gutted - gutted - that my last Waterstone’s signing was so short, after the punters devoured my meagre ration of 20 copies in a single hour.
This time, he tells me, they’ve got loads more books. Loads of ‘em. It feels almost like Rumpelstiltskin and his rooms filled with straw. Remember the story? Each night, Rumpelstiltskin turns up to save the Queen’s bacon, and spins all the straw into the gold. But all the King does the next night is present the Queen with an even BIGGER room of straw.
Well - it’ll be interesting to see how I get on before my spirits start to flag. Maybe a hundred?
Never visited Banbury before. But I do know a little bit about its local paper, which goes under the sensational title of … "The Banbury Cake".
Some years back, I was on a story for The Sun. I think it was a lotto winner story in the days when jackpot winners still made news.
I’d been dispatched off to a village near Banbury, but it was a really late press conference, which meant that I was going to have to file to the copy-takers in London. Basically you call up and dictate the story straight out of your notebook - and after about three sentences of your riveting tale, the copy-takers invariably ask, "Is there much more of this?"
It was past 4pm, which was very late in the day for news stories to be filed. I was desperate for a phone. The mobile coverage in the area was lousy.
Finally - finally - I found a phone box in the village. But there was a woman on the phone. Yittering away. I recognised her. I’d seen her at the press conference.
She was going on and on and on, and I, meanwhile, quietly seethed with impatience.
Then I came up with a brilliant idea. I’d bribe her to get off the phone.
I knocked on the kiosk door. She scowled. "I’m sorry to bother you," I said. "I’ll give you a tenner to get off the phone. I’m on a really tight deadline for The Sun."
To which the lady uttered the immortal words, words which I will never forget, "Well - I work for the Banbury Cake!"
March 13th, 2008 at 2:20 pm
You know what Mr C? I did four weeks work experience for the Banbury Cake. Banbury is my old stamping ground. I told Ma and Pa you would be signing books at Waterstones so you can be sure they’ll avoid the place like the plague all weekend. Good luck with the signing my dear!