The other night I dashed around London attempting to attend book release and art opening parties all happening simultaneously. This was, of course, impossible, though I did have a nice chat with the always charming Michael Moran at the pub celebration for his amusing new book, Sod Abroad.
Then it was off to a reading at a bookstore in King’s Cross, where I fell into conversation on the sidewalk with someone who not only understands the literary scene I left behind in the states, but also knows one of my publishers. I laughed with delight and said I made him cry once!
Then we had a jolly chat and he handed me free copies of intriguing books. Later inside the venue I was chatting with various people and a man I have never met appeared in front of me. He said Hello, Bee.
Extrapolating the fact that Stewart Home had been performing, I presumed it was him, though he doesn’t look much like his photographs. Unlike me, apparently.
When I said hello in return Stewart reeled back and exclaimed You have an American accent!
I said What else would I have?
Steward: If you live here, you should have an English accent!
Me: I don’t live here. I live in Cambridge.
Stewart: But why??
Me: I’m in exile for my sins!