Well, I sold 25 books, and this is three of the BCC staff, Diane, Jan and Samia, who kept plying me with salad and tea while I tried out Apprentice-style techniques on passing conference folk. Most people gave ten pounds, rather than the £7.99 cost price because the money was going to the CTRT appeal - so that's over two hundred pounds to add to the coffers. Although the table looks empty in the photo, sadly there were another twenty-five books in a box underneath, and I had less success getting rid of those, attempting to flog them to anybody passing by while most of the Breast Cancer Care people were in other meetings. I don't think Alan Sugar will be giving me a job any time soon. It's hard selling stuff - as you smile widely at people their eyes shift rapidly away, they start to shuffle sideways out of your sightline, and you start to feel very pushy indeed.
What surprised me once again was how beat I was by the time I got home. I stayed out only an hour perhaps more than I'd originally intended - really trying hard to get rid of the last copies - and getting home was hardly an exertion as I was in a minicab, but half-way through the journey home I had to stop the taxi so I could be sick by the side of the road (something I last did when I was about eight, I'd guess). A reminder, after a day spent talking breezily to people about "living with breast cancer with all these new drugs" that it really is a sickness, and it really does take it out of you.