Overheard at the British Library

Not today, you understand ... I wrote this earlier, but have only just managed to work out how to copy it over.

On the tube on the way here, I followed a couple up the stairs. Strange shoes ... a new style? No. His heels were pressing down on the back of the shoes, producing a strange flip-flip slip-on effect. Bizarre. Why? How long had he worn them like that for? I looked at her feet, half-expecting them to share the same strange style. But no, her trainers were normal, not unusual, not worth a second glance. So up I went, and on to the British Library.

Sitting in the British Library restaurant having lunch. In front of me, in front of my food, a couple talking. At first, I think it is an interview. There is some discussion of a book. Who is this author? I try to make out clues, but do not succeed. I do not recognise the back of his bald head, or the female interviewer’s curly hair and glasses, her old-fashioned teacher-like look. Flippets of conversation make their way back to me. A school, a boy, 12, 13 ... then publishers are mentioned, and I conclude that this is a meeting between a would-be author, a not-yet author, and an agent ... their first? A subsequent? Is she selling herself, a preliminary meeting to find out if they are right for each other? Or has he already chosen her? I wonder ... His seventeen year old son does not like the title, but has not read the book. Is this a problem? But the title doesn’t matter, not at this stage ... America ... will they understand GP? Changes will have to be made. But she’ll give it to publishers saying, “Read this, you’ll love it.”

By the way ... congratulations to Chelsea, who have literally just beaten Valencia.