Been very busy putting the finishing touches to the US version of Psychiatric Tales (out from Bloomsbury in February). This edition will have a new introduction and a different cover. I found this work to be very hard going. I've had to retype all the text, so that the lettering is now on a separate photoshop layer from the artwork. This will make it easier to make any further changes without having to alter the artwork beneath. In future I'll be doing all my comic book work this way. I wish I'd done it that way from the beginning. You live and learn.
I've also been working on the Uncle Bob Adventures book (out from Blank Slate next year). A collection of stories featuring the 150 year old Bob and his fantastic life. Currently I'm near the end of the Uncle Bob And The Frankenstein Monster chapter.
In a recent dream, I found myself in a old spit and sawdust tavern. Dark and crowded. A Spanish man sat at one table playing poker with two gypsy women. They were using oversized cards. On the floorboards near the Spaniard's feet was a luger pistol. A forth hand was being dealt to a place at the table where there was an empty stool. I was told, or somehow just knew, that the Spaniard believed that Death himself was sitting on the apparently empty stool. Death was his personal protector, he said to a woman nearby. At one point, during the evening, I realised that I was sitting at a table adjoining the card players, and that the empty stool was at my back. I moved away, fearing death's grip on my shoulder.
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