Seamus Heaney looked up and let out a breath upon which the words "oh no" quietly travelled.
What's up? I asked the poet. He nodded over my shoulder towards the source of his discomfort. I turned round.
And there grinning back at me was a photograph of Seamus Heaney, grey-haired and twinkly-eyed.
As informal portraits go, I thought it rather good. But the modest Irishman took no pleasure from seeing his image so prominently displayed.
He might have expected such a confrontation. After all we were in the Seamus Heaney Library at the Bloomsbury Hotel in London to discuss his friend and fellow poet, Ted Hughes.
Within a few hours Heaney would be giving the address at a service in the south transept of Westminster Abbey (otherwise known as Poets Corner), to celebrate the unveiling of a memorial stone dedicated to Ted Hughes.
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