Mistaken Identity

Yesterday at 5pm there was a mass exodus from the Earls Court Exhibition Centre as the London Book Fair came to a close. No more double airkissing for another year. Or so I thought.

Waiting for the tube, I caught sight of Thomas, a German publisher I’d met a few months ago. I went over to say hello and we both got on the tube together, anticipating a good old chin-wag. We started off by trading pleasantries on how we’d found the week and if business was good. Then I asked when he was heading home to Germany and he said he was actually doing a 5 month stint in London – and anyway, Switzerland was home. Strange. I looked a bit closer. It was Thomas, right? He looked a bit more tanned, and now that I thought about it his hair was a bit different…

Further careful chit chat revealed I had indeed made a mistake. This man was an absolute stranger and my enthusiastic witterings about his family and what he’d been up to for the past few months were completely misplaced. Clearly he’d been humouring me thinking that
a) perhaps he’d met me somewhere before and was trying to place me, or b) London publishers were exceptionally welcoming to foreigners.

I think it dawned on both of us in the same instant that we were indeed complete strangers. But what next? I had another two stops to go. Should I confess that actually I’d made a horribly embarrassing faux pas and the airkisses meant nothing? If it had been a private conversation I might have but we were on the tube - there were other people listening. Also, the train was moving incredibly slowly. So instead, my automatic nervous chatter reflex kicked in and the poor guy listened to absolute random waffling while the bloody train groaned along at snail’s pace prolonging my agony.

Finally, we got to my stop, but of course Fate decided that this should be his too. But this was too much for me. I pretended I had a few more stops to go and waved cheerfully goodbye to my new friend. I then waited till he was walking down the platform, before jumping off just before the doors slid shut trying not to look like a poor extra on Spooks. I then picked a very broad, tall man and shuffled along closely behind him just in case ‘Thomas’ turned round and saw me. Oh, to be the person watching the CCTV cameras.

The worrying thing is this is not the first time I’ve done this. A few years ago I was in a bar (so at least on this occasion I could blame the alcohol) and started chatting to Mike, a guy I knew. We chatted for about five minutes until he told me his name was not Mike, and although he recognised me from the gym, we’d never actually formally met. Oh. Ah. Oops.

Two weeks later I saw the real Mike, who smiled welcomingly at me so I went over, said hi and told him about the mortifying scenario a few weeks ago where I’d started chatting to a stranger thinking it was him. It was hilarious, I giggled. The poor chap thought I was completely bonkers. At this point, the poor guy sighed and informed me that he was (still) not Mike and yes, he did think I was a bit odd.

Please tell me this happens to other people?!

A Grown-Up Day

Today saw me wrestle with my pre-pregnancy smart trousers, swap Converse for heels, and unearth my tube pass from the very bottom of my handbag. Imagine that, a real life handbag. Not a changing bag masquerading as a handbag.

Then I waved goodbye to my little bean, left in the very capable hands of her Mary Poppins of a Grandma and skipped off to the London Book Fair for a day of *actual* work.

I’ll be honest, it wasn’t an overwhelming success. The tube was ghastly for a start. I forgot quite how depressingly bleary everyone is on rainy mornings. But once there, I immersed myself in all things booky which raised my spirits and kept my mind off the shenanigans I was missing out on at home.

In between meetings I managed to rush off (well, to be fair, it was more like tottering given my lack of practice walking in heels) to some very interesting seminars. I managed to catch an interview with the very hilarious Caitlin Moran, a talk on optimising social media, and a demonstration of the opportunities available in children’s ebooks. 

Unfortunately the demo was very technical in nature and had to be delayed because (I am not making this up) the right cable could not be found. Hmm… Still, it was so interesting that I wanted to find out more and searched out the company’s stand where I persuaded the CEO to give me a full demonstration. It was very impressive. The company will take a current ebook and either follow your directions on where to make them interactive, or make their own suggestions (children touch the lights in pictures and they switch on etc). One of the examples that raised my eyebrows was an illustration of a messy room with various items strewn everywhere. By clicking on the various items and moving them towards the cupboard or drawers, your child can ‘tidy up’ the room. Now, I’m all for the value of educational games, but surely physically tidying the room would be more productive? Just saying.

It was just about this time that my husband received a phone call. Apparently the GPS in Mary Poppins’ umbrella had stopped working and Grandma and Little Bean were lost. Neither of them happened to mention this little episode to me when I rang for welfare checks during the day. Another example of grandparents and grandchildren being in cahoots. 

Anyway, they managed to get home in one piece. Much later so did I – with sore feet from shoes and exhausted brain from playing with grown-ups all day. Tomorrow, round two…