Shy

I saw Claire (Clare?) Keegan having a cup of coffee in Easons in Dublin the other day and instead of doing the good thing and going up to her and telling her...what exactly...I love her writing. Actually I find her writing good and her stories awful, doom and gloom and 50 years out of date. But I ran the other way. I'm such a wuz.

Then I went to see Dermot Bolger's new play "Walking Home", about Francis Ledwidge the first World War, Meath poet. He asked me to go. I know him vaguely. He taught a series of masterclasses for 'emerging writers' (see heading!) And instead of chatting away and reminding him who I was, I shook his hand, told him how much I liked the play and ran away again.

Networking - shmetworking!

Hope he doesn't mind I use his name for a reference.