Sunday night the poet and I went along to his publisher
Enitharmon's 40th anniversary party. They also publish art books, so it wasn't all poets, but there were some well known literary figures (in the poetry world at least) there. And much grey hair. I usually wallflower at these events, or stick close to the poet as he moves around his various friends and acquaintances, and I did my share of that last night, but also spent a reasonable amount of time talking to a couple of people. I am so shy, especially around writers (probably because I feel I should be writing more myself).
It was a good night (at the Almeida restaurant) and had I wanted to share the poet's Monday hangover, the waiters who smilingly foisted wine and prosecco on us at every opportunity would have been my willing accomplices.
The poet introduced me to the man who took this famous photograph of WH Auden, Stephen Spender, Ted Hughes, TS Eliot and Louis McNeice (in random order). He told us how he scrambled around looking through the negatives when Sylvia Plath became well known (or died?) as she had been at the same event and was hanging around in the background, but found no potentially very lucrative photos of her. Wouldn't knowing the future be a boon in that kind of situation!
