THE HARPER COLLINS SUMMER PARTY!

Posted by Katy Regan at 10:44 on 3 Jul 2010

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I am not normally one to gush about a foodie item, my tastes not being particularly discerning. (Basically, I am one of those people who eats anything, even when not really hungry. You know the sort of pointless glutton I mean......Fergus's dried up fish finger that I left in the oven the day before, vegetables ‘on the turn' as long as they'll go in some curried concoction or other,  slightly soft cream-crackers as long as I can smother them with mango chutney. I know WEIRD. Basically, I don't like to go twenty minutes without putting something in my mouth).

The point I am making is that I am no food snob, but the food at the Harper Collins Summer Party at the Victoria and Albert Museum in South Kensington on Thursday, definitely deserves a mention: big slabs of ham cut off the bone served with rye bread and piccalilli as a sort of canapé, hot sausages and mustard (can't go wrong), various salmon / sun-dried vegetable canapés and lamb with pea puree. But it was the dessert display that really stole the show: an entire length of the outside of the museum (the bash was held in the V&A gardens, amongst the amazing fountains and the huge pond - VERY sophisticated indeed).

Anyway, my agent Lizzy and I ventured up to drool at the dessert display only to be told nobody was allowed to touch it till 9pm.  A food embargo.  OMG though, was it worth the wait: Mini macaroons in all different colours and flavours, mini strawberry pavlovas, strawberries and crème fraiche served in doll portions with dollops of brown sugar,  a tower of brightly coloured French Fancies (I had approximately five of those..),  Florentines....shall I go on?!

 It was their Authors' Summer Party  ( as opposed to a general one)so, lots of writerly types then, editors, London's finest agents (including my own of course!)  and a few slebs including (these are the ones I spotted anyway) Peter Mandelson, TV Historian David Starkey, Nigel Slater, that tall guy, Mark Dolan, a sort of new Louis Theroux, who does documentaries called The World's XXXX (insert biggest family, fattest woman etc etc) and Me." Pauline Prescott - ok, that's scraping the barrel but I recognised her so that's famous in my book - and numerous writers I recognised. (if only from their badges)

Needless to say, it was ridiculously exciting to be there. At the beginning, the Chief Exec gave a big speech about how a publishing house is only as good as its authors, going on to give a special mention to Hilary Mantel for Wolf Hall which won the Booker Prize this year. Just to be in the company of such people was bloody incredible  - to have thought, pre-Fergus, before I even wrote a book that several years later, I'd be standing outside the V&A museum at the Harper Collins Summer Party?!  I have to pinch myself sometimes.  At one point, I was introduced to an editor "Hello I'm so-and-so" he said,. "An editor at Harper Collins."  "hello" I said, "I'm Katy and an...." I still hesitate, just so embarrassing!....."an author" I managed eventually, mumbling into my drink. It's still so hard to believe sometimes.

I spent most of the evening talking to writers I know and people I recognised from Harper Collins from when my first book came out (lovely marketing director I haven't seen for ages, the girl who did the most brilliant job on the publicity for my book, the designers, etc etc, it got me all excited about Book Two and how things sort of gather momentum in the months running up to publication.)

So I had a ball, but it got to about 9pm and I thought, God, I can't come to a party like this where people are wearing name badges for God's sake; (blue for authors, yellow for Press, pink for agents and so on and so forth) and not take it upon myself to you know, do a bit of literary totty sharking!

Could I find one guy I fancied though? Nope. It seems that bookish types fall into two categories: short, bald, bespectacled men wearing linen suits or tall, handsome, Period Drama types with flouncy hair who are surrounded by adoring cougars ! Couldn't get in there for love nor money.Not that I'm sure Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen types are really my thing.

I did talk to one nice guy who wrote history books for the masses (trust me to pick the one subject I know NOTHING about. We talked about our children's names instead!) But he was married and was wearing Andy-Pandy stripy trousers anyway. And his sunglasses hooked onto his shirt. Mmm, never trust a man with his sunglasses tucked into his shirt. Or one who skiis come to think of it. Is it any wonder I'm single?!

Oooooh, Pass me another French Fancy.


 

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