Wednesday, 3 September 2008

And you are...?

Sy writes under a pseudonym.
In fact, Sy is the pseudonym, and as i'm writing about the writer, in the main, it's better to use his working name.
When i first questioned him about it, he said it was easier to take criticism if it were aimed at someone who wasn't real.
I'm crap at remembering the right name at the right time.
The phone rings....
Me: 'Hello?'
Caller: 'Can i speak to Sy please?'
Me: 'Who?'
Caller: 'Simon?'
Me: 'Just a moment....' and then i proceed to call Sy at the top of my voice by his real name.
It's no wonder he hates taking me to any event or meeting where he goes by his writing name.
The first literary event he had the courage to take me to was The Cheltenham Literature Festival Sy had been invited to do a talk so we were given the opportunity to meet all sorts of people we wouldn't have ordinarily.
God, i was so excited. I bought a new frock, a pair of heels and a great pair of incontinence knickers to wear in case it all got too much meeting Jilly Cooper.
When we got there, we were signed in and given name badges. They were so beautifully written, that it took me moment or two to realise they had got my name wrong.
'They've got my name wrong!' I wailed to Sy.
'No they haven't- you're Mrs Sy tonight'.
'But i'm not Mrs Sy. I'm not even the real Mrs Sy yet, let alone the pretend one.'
'You'll manage'.
I was able to stumble through most of the event by calling everyone 'darling' because that's what everyone seemed to be doing, which also meant of course that no-one asked me my name.
The problem came at the end of the evening when we had our photo taken for 'Country Life' magazine.
' Can i have your names please?' asks the photographer.
I look at Sy and panicked a bit. Before i know it i blurt out, 'Who are we? What are our names?'
Sy looked at me as if i'd gone mad, and told the photographer his name. I just stood there spluttering and desperately trying to remember what name i was supposed to answer to on this occasion.
And before i knew it, the photographer had gone. Probably through fear.
Apparently our photograph in 'Country Life' was lovely. And underneath, next to Sy's name was mine.
'Unnamed Companion'.  Well on that occasion i certainly was.

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Your words are every bit as important as Mr Shakespeares.
Put some of them together, and leave me a comment...but don't worry if it takes me a few days to get round to reading them- i have nine jobs and a writer who needs me!

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