We'd been invited to a rather grand reception…
"Oh look," said Hilary. "There's Roald Dahl."
"You can't be serious."
"On the sofa. By the lamp."
"Good heavens. So it is."
Roald Dahl was sitting momentarily alone, so I sort of plunged up to him and shook his hand and said, "My children think your books are wonderful."
I turned to rush off again, but he held on to my hand, which was nice of him, and he really smiled at me, and said, "Good for them. Send them my best regards," and then someone flopped into the seat beside him so pushed off again. I felt like a lion hunter, but I never mind people saying that they like my books, so I was sure he wouldn't.