For the past two months I've been attempting to set up a meeting between one of our authors who I last saw in a fashionable restaurant with his retinue after my book launch - and Mr T. Since then we've since become firm pen pals as we exchange weekly emails in which I try to match up his schedule with our esteemed leader to find them a mutually convenient date to meet.
Our author cancelled the last one. He was in Los Angeles working on his film.
We had to make another date, but that was going to be difficult. He would be in Ireland.
I went back to the diary but he said he would be in Cannes on the day I suggested.
Only joking he added.
I'm not sure he was, however, eventually we found a space.
Lovely, he said, we can go to the Ivy Club, if that's okay.
Wonderful, I said, as if I would actually be going myself.
I pencilled it in.
This is what Cinderella would feel like if she worked as a PA
