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Back to the Fuchsia

Booksy anecdote from my London publishing days.

Oop t'north with the grave and distinguished Sir Vivian Fuchs for a Yorkshire Post Literary Luncheon in God's own county.

Throughout his introductory speech, Hizzoner the Lord Mayor enunciates Sir Vivian's name with the utmost clarity to rhyme with 'ducks'.

As soon as is proper, I lean over and in my best PR sotto voce whisper, "Actually, it's pronounced 'fooks'."

The burly alderman fixes me an icy glare:

"Ayup, lad, there'll be no language like that in my town hall."