Bookwitch

The witch rarely makes it to such exalted neighbourhoods as Mayfair, but there are exceptions, and Wednesday night was one. I was about to say that it was that nice man David Fickling who invited me, but it was more the lovely Nina Douglas. Anyway, it’s rare to be invited to anything, and that’s quite understandable, really. This time we got together to mark the publication of Siobhan Dowd’s third novel, Bog Child, and also to be reminded of Siobhan’s trust to help children read. I’ve said this before, but it’s worth repeating; send some money to Polly Nolan at the trust. Please!

David Fickling, Polly Nolan, Geoff Morgan, Rachel Billington and Tony Bradman

The venue was very elegant, and the drinks and nibbles were wonderful. As you know, or have long suspected, the witch is next to useless at mingling and stuff, but it went surprisingly well. I talked to people I know and was also introduced to new and interesting book people. Also at last got to talk to Siobhan’s husband Geoff in person.

I arrived too early, which is unacceptable even to a Swede, and a hasty manouvre to the ladies room brought me face to face with Fiona Dunbar, and I have insulted her in some pink way, but we will work on this. I hasten to add that Fiona was as friendly as always. Lee Weatherly was there, too. Not in the ladies, though. Anthony McGowan even recognised me, and Meg Rosoff made a late appearance after traipsing round Mayfair for a bit.

To prevent this looking like a shopping list, I will refrain from mentioning everyone else. Some of the conversations will no doubt be useful here later on. My head is buzzing with ideas and gossip, but with a memory like a grapefruit (or should that be goldfish?) you can never be certain it won’t get forgotten.

You can always hope.