I’d been apprehensive about going since I found myself chatting to the editor, Abi King-Jones, at the Film Festival gala night.
“Oh I’m probably in that,” I joked, not for one moment suspecting I would be. After all, I’d escaped mention in the play.
“Yes you are,” she replied.
I thought it was a movie, with actors recreating the scenes from Hager’s book.
Naturally I enquired as to which portly, follically-challenged thespian was going to be putting my words in his mouth.
“Cohen Holloway,” said Abi.
I was pleased.