Gladys, Gloria et al


Standing in the middle of Grafton Street this morning having my photo taken and trying to look completely natural I was reminded of a couple of  other pre-pub moments in my, ahem, career. There was the time when my then publisher’s front desk receptionist burst my balloon of celebrity by announcing me as, ‘Gloria Graham for Mr Motion.’ I think he’s Sir Andrew now. I’m still not nor ever have been Gloria.

There was also the time when, thanks to the haircut and a pair of very large earrings, I bore a passing resemblance to Gladys Pugh. So much so that even not wearing a canary yellow blazer I was unable to convince the group of kids who’d gathered at our photo shoot that I was merely an unknown novelist. They wanted my autograph, or rather Gladys’s autograph. One of them ran across to the nearby bus station and grabbed a timetable for me to sign which I did with what I hope was a sufficiently illegible flourish. At any rate they seemed satisfied.

Dublin’s a bit more sophisticated than that. In so far as there was any interest in what the photographer was up to this morning the verdict was likely, ‘Just another feckin writer.’  And quite right too. In Ireland we writers number more than grains of sand on the seashore.

So now I’m off to London to take tea and cake with the Elect and launch A Humble Companion. I suspect we may also open a bottle or three. But I’ll be back in good time to blow up the balloons and spear the cocktail sausages for my three day Virtual Book Launch. The party for people who don’t go to parties. If you didn’t yet pick up your invitation you’ll find it on the Events page.

All for now, folks!

Leave a Comment