The Printer and Prosecco

Well, that’s another month done and dusted. Does anyone else find it hard to believe that it’s the first day of October already? September charged by like a gazelle on speed and I don’t feel I achieved very much. What with working a couple of days of overtime, packing up and returning the youngsters to university, and the big event that was NorCon, I’ve hardly had time to catch my breath.

So, what have I been up to since we last spoke?

Firstly, NorCon. What a spectacularly successful event that was for all of us. I sold £310 worth of books last year and thought that was pretty good. If I can do that again, I thought, I’ll be happy. But I suspected because of the cost-of-living crises that I would be lucky to reach that number. Well, I didn’t only reach it, I smashed it out of the park selling a massive £410 worth of books. Yep, a whole £100 more.

The footfall was higher, and people came all out prepared to have a good time and spend. I took 53 books with me, including Black Ice, The Forest, Erinsmore, Mage Quest, and Lifesong. I sold 45 of them. I couldn’t believe it. Not only did I do well, but my fellow authors did fantastically as well, which was wonderful. The costumes were astonishing, and I managed to take a few photos, but to be honest, I was too busy talking to people, and selling and signing books to take many. Once again, Black Ice was popular and I sold out of both it and The Forest, which was also a runaway hit. Not so many of Erinsmore, and a few of Mage Quest. I didn’t expect to sell too many of the latter because it’s a sequel, but I sold four copies which was great. My little bonus novella Lifesong which was £3.50 when bought with another book, also did very well with most people taking advantage of the offer.

It was a long and exhausting weekend though. We had to be at the showground by 8:30am at the latest each day to be able to park in the trader’s car park next to the venue. This meant I had to be up at six every day to pick up another author I was giving a lift to at seven. Then being on the stall and having to be on red alert for the whole day left us all drained and with sore throats from talking so much.

It was lovely though. My first sale of the event was to a lady who bought The Forest the year before and waited all year to come back and buy Black Ice. There were a few buyers who had bought from me the previous year or at other events and looked for me at NorCon, hoping to buy some more books. I need to print more cards because I gave out all I had left. I signed books and even gift-wrapped them as presents for people and my little card reader was constantly on the go.

Driving home Saturday, I realised how hungry I was and was relieved I had arranged to go for dinner with the author sharing my stall and her husband. We wandered down to the Old Canon and sat in the garden. A big burger with lots of chips seemed in order and luckily I had thought to take the voucher we’d won at the quiz, so my dinner was free. We shared a bottle of wine, chatted, and relaxed, but made it an early night as we had to be up at silly o’clock to do it all over again the next day.

Sunday was a little quieter but still a good day. Driving home I was so tired I took the wrong turn off the slip road and we ended up going about ten minutes out of our way, but eventually we made it home and all I did was unpack the car and put everything away, fixed myself some soup for dinner and fell into bed.

I had soup because I’m back on my diet. Determined to shift the middle-aged spread and the weight that has piled on because of my underactive thyroid gland, I started the diet two weeks ago. So far, I have lost 6lbs the first week and 4lbs the second, so that’s 10lbs lost just in two weeks, which isn’t too bad at all.

I am having issues with my printer. It’s an Epson. I usually buy HP as I find them less complicated and more reliable than an Epson, but for some reason when I had to buy a new printer last time I bought an Epson. Anyway, it has done nothing but whine ever since I bought it because I wasn’t using genuine Epson ink but the cheaper compatible stuff.

Do you realise you’re using nongenuine Epson ink? it would petulantly ask every time I went to print something.

Yes, I do, now shut up and print, I would reply. Sulkily it would huff and puff but eventually print what I wanted.

During the summer vacation, the girls needed to print off a rather long document that had been submitted to the university online but now had to be printed off and posted first class to them. So, it was urgent and had to be done ASAP. They woke the printer up. It grumbled and complained, printed ten pages, and then stopped.

Out of ink, it spitefully informed us. You need all the colours.

The document is black and white, we told it. Just print it in that.

Can’t, it declared. No ink, no print. Give me ink. And make it bloody Epson this time, you cheap skates.

As it was so urgent that this wretched document be printed, I pulled on my shoes and ran up town to Rymans, the big stationery store.

I need ink for this type of Epson printer, I told the flustered young girl behind the counter.

Do you know what picture is on the box?

No, I’ve never bought genuine Epson ink before.

Oh, right. What’s the printer number?

I told her.

Umm, okay … do you know what picture is on the box?

No … teeth gritted by now … I told you; I’ve never bought the proper ink before.

Oh, it’s just, it’s only my first week here so I don’t know which type of ink it needs.

Is there anyone here who does?

My supervisor.

Great, can I speak to them, please?

She’s on lunch and won’t be back for about forty minutes.

Can you look it up on the computer?

I don’t know how to do that yet.

Right, okay, can you think of anywhere else in town that sells printer ink?

Umm, Denny Bros might.

I’ll go and try them then.

All right … she then brightened as a thought struck her. If you find out from them what picture is on the front of the box then I’m sure we’ll have it in stock. She waved her hand at the wall behind her on which hung an impressive array of boxes of printer ink – all with a different picture on the front.

Will do, I told her, but I think my sarcasm was lost on her because she just grinned happily at me.

I dashed across town to the small printing, art, and stationery suppliers.

No, we don’t sell any printer ink, the jolly man behind the counter told me.

Damn. I turned to go, then a thought struck me. I don’t suppose you know what picture is on the box of ink that this type of Epson printer needs.

I showed him the number and he tapped importantly on his keyboard.

Yes, it’s a starfish.

Brilliant, thank you.

I rushed back across to Rymans.

A starfish, I told the girl triumphantly and she beamed happily.

Great, we have that.

I paid the exorbitant sum of £55 for four ink cartridges which was more than the bloody printer cost and sprinted home. The girls put the new cartridges in and finished printing the document and I thought that was the end of it.

It wasn’t.

Last week I needed to print off my trader’s ticket for NorCon, along with a copy of my public liability insurance – in case someone hurts themselves on my book stall – and a few more sheets of the Julia Blake logo that I stick on the bags I put books I sell into.

I tried to print. It wouldn’t.

No ink, the printer smugly informed me.

WTF? You have ink. You have loads of ink. You have a full belly of ink. And it’s genuine Epson.

No, it’s not. I don’t believe you, screamed the printer, flashing the ink low light in an aggrieved manner.

I trudged upstairs where the printer lives. I checked all the new ink cartridges were in place. They were. I took them out and snapped them back in again, just to make sure. I turned it off and turned it back on again. I tried to print.

No ink!!

I tried again, I checked the plastic tab had been taken off each cartridge, I carefully snapped them all back into place, and I tried to print a test page.

No ink, no ink, I’ve got no ink, taunted the printer.

You have got ink! I snapped. I checked that it was the new, eye-wateringly expensive cartridges in the printer and not the old cheap ones. Nope, Epson was written on each one. I took them out and cleaned them and the heads where they connect to the printer.

I tried to print.

Nope.

I watched four different YouTube videos on what to do when the printer fails to recognise new cartridges. The advice was all basically along the lines of taking them out, putting them back in, cleaning them, and turning the printer off and on again.

Nothing worked.

By now, I am getting more and more frustrated. I must print these forms. It was late Wednesday; I was at work all of the next day and I needed them for the crack of dawn Saturday morning.

I had to email a fellow author I was sharing a stall with at NorCon and I mentioned the issue. Send them to me, she told me, and I’ll print them out for you. Very relieved, I emailed them to her, and we made plans for me to swing by hers and pick them up that Friday.

I honestly don’t know what to do about the printer. There is no reason for it not to work. It has four brand new, genuine Epson ink cartridges that cost a lot of money. It’s connected to the laptop just fine. It just won’t print. The no ink light is lit and the error message I am getting is that it has no ink at all, in any of the cartridges.

I don’t know what machine the pop group “Rage Against The Machine” was raging against, but I’d bet any odds it was a printer.

The trouble is I need to print out more logos for my bags before next weekend. I don’t want to have to buy a new printer, but I may not have a choice. I need those bags for the Foreword Festival, and I can’t expect my friend to keep printing them out for me.

I’m looking forward to the Festival. It’s so exciting that it’s being held in my hometown. It’s the first-ever Literary Fringe Festival to be held in the UK – that we know of – so we are all hoping it’s going to be a huge success.

Are you coming to it? There is going to be a two-day book fair in the Guildhall, plus author panels and workshops. The Festival ran a 500-word short story competition to which I submitted a story, and much to my surprise, so did my daughter Franki. Her story was very good, and I was thrilled for her when we both reached the top twenty shortlisted entries. As we waited to find out whose stories had made it to the winning ten, a little voice in my head kept whispering – please, don’t let me be beaten by my daughter.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I would have been delighted if she’d made it to the top ten as well as me, I just didn’t want it to be instead of me, if you know what I mean. As it turned out, I made it to the top ten and sadly Franki didn’t.

All of the top ten stories will be read out on Saturday at five different locations around town by professional actors from the Quirkhouse Play Company. My story is going to be read out in the library at 11:30 and I am going to try and find someone to watch my stall for twenty minutes whilst I dash out to hear it being read. It’s going to be strange. I’ve never really heard anyone else reading out my words.

If you are coming to either the Literary Fringe Festival on the weekend of the 7^th and 8^th of October, or to the Bury St Edmunds Literature Festival two weeks later on the 20^th, 21^st, and 22^nd of October and are looking for somewhere to stay, the owner of two Airbnb properties right in the heart of Bury has contacted me with an exciting proposal. Both the beautiful cottages are available for those weekends and, if you book through me, you will receive a gift voucher entitling you to any one of my books completely free.

Below are some images of the properties. They are both a short walk from the town centre where everything will be happening. Both have two bedrooms with a double bed in one and a bed that can be a double or two singles in the other. Both are furnished superbly and would be perfect for staying for either or both of the festivals. But hurry, there are only two properties which could be let at any minute.

Wednesday was my day off. In the morning I made cherry vodka. Nothing says Autumn is here and that Christmas is coming quite like making my vodka ready for the festive season. I’ve made a lot this year because I give a lot of it away as gifts. Then I went out at lunchtime with a friend for her belated birthday celebration. We had a couple of glasses of prosecco before we went, then ambled to the Old Canon and found a nice table by the open door leading to the courtyard. Instead of having one of their large plates, we decided to share a starter and then have a lite lunch each. We both love potatoes, so the cheesy loaded potato skins with crispy onion bits, sour cream, and tomato relish appealed to us both. For our main, we both chose the open brioche buns with salad garnish and skin on fries. Mine was stuffed with deep-fried shrimp and my friend’s with crayfish and pomegranate seeds. We ordered a bottle of rose and sat chatting until our starter arrived. Well, it was a new definition of potato skins that I hadn’t previously been aware of. It was whole potatoes, cooked, halved, and smothered in cheese, onion, sour cream, and relish. The platter was mahoosive. Way bigger than we’d imagined.

We managed to finish it then sat looking at one another in stuffed dismay. Our mains arrived. We looked at them. Knowing there was no way we were going to be able to eat it all, we prioritized. I ate my shrimp, she ate the crayfish, and we picked a few chips. We were done. Our plates looked barely touched. As usual, I felt unbelievably guilty about leaving so much and apologised to the server, who laughed and offered us dessert. We declined, politely. We paid, then stagged back to mine where we sat in the garden and finished the first bottle of prosecco, then opened the second ­– which was possibly a bad move.

We sat and chatted, then my friend went to go home and suggested as it was such a gorgeous afternoon that I walk with her and have a drink in her garden before I walked home. She lives about a mile away and as I was still feeling over full of lunch I thought the exercise would do me good. We got to hers to find her husband barbecuing lamb with a bottle of red on the go. I had a glass. I think I had more than one glass. Dusk fell. It was mild enough to sit outside on their covered veranda, but the wind was picking up and gusting through the shrubbery. It all seemed such a good idea until her husband offered to walk me home – I think he was concerned I wouldn’t make it on my own – and I got up and realised how wobbly my legs were.

Reaching home safely, I fell into bed. The lodger had texted me that she was staying at her daughter’s all night and wouldn’t be home until the morning, so I put the chain on the front door, turned off the outside light, and fell into bed – only to be jerked awake at one in the morning by what sounded like someone trying to break into the house.

I got up and stomped downstairs. A torch was shining through the glass panels in the door and the door was open as far as the chain would let it go. It was my b****y lodger. For some reason she’d decided to come home after all and hadn’t bothered to let me know, so of course couldn’t get in because the chain was on. I stomped to the door, took the chain off, and stomped back off to bed but could not get back to sleep.

In the cold light of dawn, when I had to be up at six to get ready for work, the whole evening no longer seemed like such a good idea. On reflection, it had possibly been a very bad idea indeed. But, we’d had fun, so I guess that’s more important than a slight headache.

Speaking of Franki, which we were a few minutes ago, she has discovered that when she goes to Reading University next year, she will only be able to get a student loan to cover her tuition fees. This means that all her living expenses will need to be found by her. I won’t be able to help because I can barely manage my expenses, let alone those of a student living near London.

Deciding the sensible thing to do would be to get a part-time job near her current university, Franki applied for a few and gained three or four interviews to attend when she returned to university. They all had pros and cons but the one she was hoping for was working for the supermarket chain, Sainsbury’s. And I am delighted to report that she got the job. The hours are perfect – she will be working every Sunday and Monday – as her lectures are only on Thursday and Friday – this will leave her three days every week to study and work on her dissertation. As she doesn’t need the income this year – she receives a very generous living loan – every penny she earns can go into savings ready for next year.

There is also a possibility that when Franki comes home next summer she might be able to transfer to the local Sainsbury’s in Bury. There is even a remote possibility that when she goes to Reading University, she might be able to transfer to the branch there. That is one benefit of working for a large national chain. And of course, as a member of staff, she will get 10% off her grocery shopping which will be very handy.

I am proud of her for realising the financial situation and immediately doing something about it.

Further speaking of Franki, I need to ask for your help with something. She is carrying out a study on cats and would be very grateful if you could help by filling in a short survey to help her with her research. It is only short, and it is about cats – so that’s nice. I will put the link at the end of the blog and would like to thank anyone who takes five minutes to fill it out.

Take care everyone and I look forward to chatting with you next time. Here is the link for the survey and Franki would be very grateful if you could fill it in for her.https://forms.office.com/e/hbEZRccGtc

If anyone is interested in the Airbnb, please message me, and if anyone is coming to the Fringe Festival next weekend, please come to the Guildhall and say hello.

All the best.

Julia Blake