Let me read for you!
Last week I went to Cologne to launch my book, ‘This isn’t happiness’. I had never been to Germany before. It was on the list of places to go; I just hadn’t got round to it yet. Strangely, Mum was born in Cologne. My grandparents happily lived out there for a few years.
There is a black-and-white photo of them having a picnic in a field. My grandad, with his sharp jawline, and my football-sized Mum in my grandmother’s arms.
My grandmother (Momo, we called her) was born to be a headmistress. She’d put us to bed at 7pm on the dot, even in the summer holidays. We’d lie there for hours, with the sun blaring through the curtains, listening to the other kids screaming with joy outside.
She may have been strict, but like any good teacher, she’d push any kind of creative flair that her grandchildren showed. (There were over twenty grandchildren. Catholics.) When I was ten, she re-wrote my September 11th poem in flawless calligraphy and framed it. After she passed, we found poems and the beginnings of stories she had jotted in notebooks. So, it felt quite charming that my writing brought me to the city she once loved.
Roman came with me on the trip. He dubbed himself ‘arm candy’ for the occasion. This time, I was in charge of booking the room, so no balloons. (See Paris trip).
The first morning, like typical Brits, we made an abstract breakfast from the hotel buffet. Roman had an omelette, a square piece of cheese and two olives. I had four bits of dried banana, melon and a bread roll. And with those random calories, we went out and explored Cologne.
As it was December and we were in Germany, the city was in full Christmas swing; it felt like we had landed in Santa’s grotto. There were little Christmas markets sprinkled everywhere. You could even take a tiny yellow train that choo-choo-ed you to each market. Arm-candy Roman said no to be choo-chooed in the tiny yellow train around the markets. So, we stayed on foot. We stumbled across Heavenue. This was an LGBTQ+ themed market. It had plastic flamingos and a very sparkly tree.
We had our first Glühwein in rainbow mugs, and I tried my first-ever crisp stick. There is no other way to describe a crisp stick than a fried potato twirled around a stick – not my most elegant meal.
Full of hot wine, we went to the bookstore called Manulit. It was a cool independent one, beautifully laid out, with a coffee bar. As soon as I walked in, I spotted my book in the middle of the shelf.
It was a real moment, seeing it out in the wild. I couldn’t help but think about young-blonde Momo being in this city 60 years ago, and thought of how funny life is, and –
“HEY! Mary, Mary, Mary,” Roman said.
“What?”
“Your name is only on one book, but my name is on EVERY book.”
*Sigh* The word Roman translates to novel. So, in Germany, Roman is printed on every cover, including mine. If this were a cheap romantic Netflix movie, it would have been seen as a sign
“You wrote a novel, and his name means novel.”
But I’m a cynical woman in 2025, so it’s more like,
“CAN’T I JUST HAVE THIS ONE THING! GOD!”
The bookshop owners found out it was my book because Roman told them. I could have died. They were lovely people, though, and asked me to sign the copies they had.
When I first got the German book deal, I had a vision of me wearing all black, sunglasses, smoking a cigarette, and signing my book with a half-arsed scribble. I’d explain the story with a straight face and a gravelly voice, “’This isn’t happiness’ is about a woman’s inner turmoil when the intimacy vanishes from a relationship…” *Puffs cigarette*
But it didn’t turn out that way. I don’t smoke, which didn’t help; I also smile too hard and think too much. I carefully wrote my name and asked them, “Have I done it right?” Like I was at school, showing a teacher my work.
“Perfect,” she said.
I gave her a massive grin.
Before leaving the shop, I bought a book and a cap that said, ‘Read More Books.’ Got to help the cause.
The next day, I was off to the publishing house in my red velvet blazer. Valérie, the editor, came to meet me. It’s always a weird moment meeting someone you have been emailing for a year, but she was super sweet. She gave me a tour, and I was doing so well until we got to the boardroom, where I dropped my glass of water, and it splashed all over the boardroom table.
“We don’t have any meetings today, it’s fine,” Valérie said.
I was then whisked away to create social media content with the marketing team, Ella, and Sophie. I gave an introduction to my book, where I again had the opportunity to sound slick but instead came across as a hyper Blue Peter presenter. “Will it work it out? Read the book, and you’ll find out…” Kind of vibe.
After lunch with the Pola team, I was taken to another very hipster bookshop called Siebter Himmel, which translates to ‘Seventh Heaven’. Up to that point, I had been signing my name with a kiss (x). It only occurred to me after the 10th book that perhaps the x doesn’t translate.
“X means kiss, right?” I asked Valérie.
“No. It means death,” she said with a straight face.
“What?!”
“Joking.” She burst out laughing.
Before leaving, I bought another book-promoting cap. Still helping the cause.
The last night in Germany was spent crawling around the Christmas market. Roman got his meat stick – like a crisp stick, but with, erm… meat.
We watched a flamboyant conductor lead a band through some Christmas favourites by the cathedral. We were singing along with our Glühweins waving in the air.
I could see why Momo loved this city so much.
THE QUACK 