Despite the fact that we live almost exactly on the perimeter of Heathrow airport we're having to fly from Luton, because no plane from Heathrow flies anywhere near where we want to go. Crazy, yes? And despite the fact that I would gladly have paid any airline regular prices rather than go on rubbishy Ryan air, we're flying Ryanair because they're the only airline that goes to Nimes. So there you are.

In the meantime, Gradisil has gone off to be copyedited. And this came through yesterday, the cover of the Palgrave Critical History of SF. Sorry it's such incredibly rubbish quality. Don't know why it is, or how to sort it out, except that where most of my image files for this website are a few thousand bits (bites?) this one is over a million, which should surely mean that it's of a far higher quality, instead of looking like it's been strained through muslin and into the eyes of a myopic dog. Ah well. It won't be black and white when it's published. It'll be, I think, greeny-ish and white. But there it is, in all its Verne-derived glory. You can see the little turdus-shaped spaceship, just below and to the left of the moon.

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