Last night I was invited to a soiree in honor of a British writer.
When I entered the apartment most guests were already there. I introduced myself to a man who looked vaguely familiar.

“I loved your last book,” he said.

“Oh yes?” I answered.

“Did you experience all these things yourself?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you actually go tuna fishing?" the man asked.

“You must mistake me for somebody else,” I answered.

“So let’s start all over again,” the man said.

I was somehow flattered that he had thought I was capable of tuna fishing. At least I didn’t come across as a bookish man.