Pain

It was a sobering start to the day. I left my publicist, Sophie, with the bags at Queen Street station while I hurried down Queen Street to WH Smith in Argyll Street for a stock signing before catching our train to Inverness. I had forgotten about the tragic events that had occurred in Queen Street just before Christmas when a bin lorry had careered out of control, killing and maiming pedestrians before crashing into the station.

But the traffic cones that still track the lethal path that the lorry took were a sudden reminder, not only of the appalling incident itself, but of how quickly we (who were not directly affected) forget.

The most telling reminder, however, awaited me in Royal Exhange Square, where a sea of flowers have been laid for the dead - a sea being constantly renewed, even all these weeks later.

The train journey north was passed in somber silence, as we climbed up through the desolate and snowy wastes of the Cairngorms, before descending again to the Highland capital of Inverness, gripped in the firm and frozen fist of winter.

The bay window of my hotel room looked out over the River Ness and the castle climbing the hill on the far side, but there was no time to relax and thaw out, as we headed up through the town (or city, as it is now designated) for another stock signing.

The book event, a little later, was held in the Ironworks - the rock venue of the North, and every seat was filled. My interviewer was the relaxed and intelligent Nicola McAlley of STV who guided me seamlessly through a discussion of Runaway and my other books. It was followed by a long signing queue of very loyal readers, and a meal in a glass restaurant overlooking the river.

Tomorrow it's off to Perth, then Dundee.