The man at the fireworks party turns to me and says, ‘so, are you a writer too?’
I was rather taken aback to be honest. I mean, I was here to watch people walking up and down the street dressed up as monks and Romans and such like, while carrying burning torches and banging drums, before going to see a fab firework display (with the burning of a political effigy), not to talk work.
Of course, you can’t stop a writer comparing notes with another writer. So, full of enthusiasm, and beer, I reply:
‘Yes, I am a writer! I write fantasy and comedy now, just got a book out with Harper Voyager. I use to write for radio and TV, for people like Rory Bremner – a lot of political stuff. Plus, stage and now film. How great to meet another writer here, you didn’t do the secret handshake you see, threw me completely!
‘So,’ I say, ‘what do you write?’
The man stares at me and blinks before saying: ‘I asked if you’re a rider too.’
I look at my equestrian-loving partner, who has just been talking to the man. She looks at me, shaking her head slightly. I look back at the man.
‘No, I don’t ride,’ I say.
Nicely Strongoak 