Last night, after being interviewed by Ruth Joos I said goodbye to a journalist with whom I’ll have dinner on Sunday.
My companion said: “Didn’t you notice to whom he was talking?” “No,” I answered.
“He was talking to X,” she said. X being a Flemish author. “Do you hold a grudge against X?” “No.” “So why did you ignore him? It was rude. Perhaps you were just being clumsy but it could be perceived as arrogance.” Later I remembered that my companion once had declared that she found X an extremely handsome man and that he was one of the few men she really admired.
(I made a mistake. X is more Dutch than Flemish.)