I need to join a literary salon.
I feel the need to discuss literature and art and who Andrew Lloyd Webber is going to pick to be Dorothy in the 'Wizard of Oz' West End musical in London.
It needs to be full of interesting people who under no circumstances, unless in a fascinating plot twist, are allowed discuss money, how much their house is worth or how many holidays they are taking this year.
They must never discuss their day job unless they are Seamus Heaney or Neil Jordan or Anne Tyler.
Actually, they would be perfect guests in my imaginary 'salon'. I would just need to dash out a few actual books before they would consider me as a rightful member of the group.
Actually, forget that, it's my imaginary literary salon, of course I'm going to be at it. I'll grab someone else's book and just paste my name over it, they'll never guess.
And while I'm on the subject of groups of interesting people, while watching a T.V.documentary the other night, I just realised that Bono and U2, along with some very interesting Irish artists and musicians, had such a 'salon' in the 1980s.
They called it 'Lypton Village' and they sat around plucking guitar strings and being really artistic and bohemian and they all went on to wonderful things.
Now, two things struck me about this documentary:
1. The very horse and cart I wrote about in one of my short pieces was shown in black and white film delivering coal.
I had a very surreal moment thinking, Gosh, Bono got his coal delivered by exactly the same horse as me, which I am sure will be a fascinating conversation opener if I ever get to meet him, which is highly unlikely.
2. Why the heck wasn't I invited to join 'Lypton Village' ?. I was just as Bohemiam as them. I had stacks of weird records and I was incredibly pale and intense. I also only lived about two miles from them, I could have been up there in an hour walking or I could have hitched a lift with the horse and cart. Did I tell you that I had the same coal delivery as Bono ??
Also I wanted to go to their secondary school, but went to an all-girls school instead,which was great, but we had only one famous past pupil-the wonderful Veronica Guerin.
What a sad twist of fate, I could have been lead singer or drummer with U2 now.
Anyway, maybe I'll just have to live in the real world and try and integrate my writing life with my home life.
I will possibly emulate William Wordsworth, whose cottage I visited once in the Lake district. He had stairs built from his upstairs study which led straight out to the gardens. He didn't want his artistic mood to be disturbed by 'domestic clutter'.
Hmmmm.... I'm off to see if my ladder is long enough to reach the back garden.
I'll pick some daffodils while I'm out there.