I find myself wondering why I do things which I know I'm not going to like. Last Tuesday was one such example. I was down at the Brazilian Ambassador's residence on Mount Street near Park Lane for a reception to celebrate the publication of Josh Lacey's biography of Charles Miller,which I reviewed the month before last here.
What disconcerted me was the realisation that I wouldn't know anyone there. And I couldn't find anyone to talk to. It was all rather awkward, as there was no way into conversation as far as I could see. And even admiring the residency itself, or marvelling at the height of Gilberto Silva, the Arsenal midfielder who was also present to launch the book, had only limited attraction. But since Josh himself invited me and put me on the guest list I couldn't really refuse.
Once I'd managed to congratulate him, notwithstanding the minders who buzzed at his shoulders, I was able to leave - half an hour later.