My Dinner With No One
Timing is everything. At least when it is, it is. I say that because in a few days my colleague is going to be in a place with several of our contributors and/or fans and supporters. People I have had energetic email correspondences with, people I admire, people who have a high opinion of B&W which they have conveyed to me with enthusiasm. I would love to be there. These are people I would really love a chance to talk to, to discuss ideas and events relevant to B&W with. In fact I would give a couple of limbs to talk to them. Meera Nanda, for instance, whom I have quoted here so often and who has written several brilliant articles for us. Alan Sokal, whose title we helped ourselves to and whose hoax is a permanent inspiration to us. Latha Menon, who told me about Romila Thapar and then wrote that wonderful article for us. Kenan Malik, who wrote an excellent review of Meera’s book as well as an article for us (roundly disagreeing with my colleague, who is therefore confidently expecting they will engage in fisticuffs). A.C. Grayling, who is the only one I don’t have an email acquaintance with but who is against FN and N generally, so a sort of ally all the same (otherwise he wouldn’t be there). And of course good old Julian Baggini, who writes Bad Moves for B&W and does one or two other things on the side.
And the final refinement of the torture is that if this confluence of people were taking place a mere three weeks later…I might be able to go. Though I might not, because, er, I haven’t been invited. But I could perhaps loiter around in the street and be able to chat with people as they left. Or I could perhaps just pitch a loud fit until someone invited me – I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, because it’s not taking place three weeks later. Timing is everything. In three weeks (near enough) I’ll be there, but for now I’m here, and that’s that. So let that be a lesson to you. Always be in the right place at the right time.
Maybe if you had your colleague invite THEM to YOUR neck of the woods? Singly or in a bunch, y’know, find out when they’ll be around and set up a dinner or coffee or something…Said colleague could at least pass on the word that you want to meet these distinguished minds.
Oh, he will, don’t worry. He’ll talk of nothing else. He has nothing else to talk about. The whole conversation will be about nothing but me. Which is highly appropriate.
Mind you – it might look a bit silly for my colleague to invite them to my neck of the woods. ‘I’d like to invite you to go six thousand miles away to meet my colleague for coffee. Sound good?’ ‘Well, no.’
Well, shoot, I was actually thinking of something more on the order of, “If you ever happen to be in my region, then I’ve got a colleague who’d love to meet you…”
I know, I know, I was just being hawhaw amusing, as is my wont. I’m sure my colleague will (would, did, will have, one of those tenses) passed on the word if the subject came up, he regretted my inability to be there. (Of course that’s only because he doesn’t know what I’m like when I go out among people. I scratch. I take the last of everything and slap people if they try to grab it instead. I tell rude jokes in Flemish. I inform all present what I think of their clothes, and then ask them how much they paid for them. I ask to borrow money. I say the food sucks. I spit on the floor. I laugh and talk with my mouth full, spraying everyone within six feet with a fine mist of chewed food. It’s really just as well I wasn’t there.)