Last year, I was pleased to receive, out of the blue, an invitation to the inaugural Lansdowne Literary Festival, hosted by the Lansdowne Club in London. I'd not had any previous dealings with the Club, so I didn't really know what to expect, but the Festival was held on Saturday and I had a great time, on a flying visit to the capital, in between checking proofs and trying to meet my next writing deadline.
The Lansdowne Club is in Mayfair and the heritage of the building dates back to the eighteenth century, although the Club itself was formed in 1935 after major changes to the structure. Because my visit was so brief, I didn't have as much time to explore as I'd hoped, but what I saw was very impressive.
I was invited to take part in a lovely dinner on Friday evening with some delightful companions, including the MC for the festival, Stephen Taylor, Veronica Hollander, the organiser, and Lindy Woodhead, who wrote the book on which the TV series Mr Selfridge was based. All very convivial. The first speaker on Saturday was Lara Prendergast, executive editor of the Spectator, and then Veronica interviewed me.
There was a very good audience and some excellent questions. I enjoyed myself enormously and was only sorry that, for various reasons including transport challenges, I had to dash off after lunch. But I thought that the festival was a great success, especially given that it was a new venture, and I hope that it turns out to be the first of many.
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