Sitting in a fashionable
Belgravia gastro-pub, I tune out of the polite conversation we are having over lunch with a client, and find myself noticing a young man at an adjacent table. He sits hunched, a motorbike helmet between his feet, acting like a sulky teenager despite being in his mid-twenties at least. He is handsome, but immature, and so not attractive – to me at least – and I find myself fascinated by his behaviour, which suggests his lunch partner is a parent. Sitting back in my chair, I look at the man opposite him. Yes, definitely his father – I can see the family resemblance, and I watch the two interact, playing out their familial roles for anyone who would care to notice. With our meal finished, I stand to leave, and realise that the father is a very well-known stage and television actor. I am surprised at myself, how my interest in his son, and their relationship, clouded recognition until that moment when my perspective changed. I’d make a very poor starfucker.
Sitting in a fashionable 
7 comments:
I think that's quite a compliment to your way of looking at people that you would notice the people and their interactions first rather than their celebrity status.
God, if I had a dad who was a celebrity, I'd probably hunch over while in public with him, too. I've always wondered how the children of celebrities feel. The celebrity chooses their fame more or less, but the children have fame thrust upon them. Then again, I wouldn't know Angelina Jolie's child from any other neighborhood kid.
Thanks so much for the comment on cool places in England! I've researched Bristol a little bit and it sounds really neat. Still interested in Cornwall. I hope to hear more from you! I'm really enjoying reading your blog. : )
Britt
I guess it is not so much like here in the states, where the paparazzi would be all over them so you could not help but notice.
I had a friend where I grew up who did commentary on TV for years. He was always approached by people when we were out. It was intrusive, and a pain. There was no way to have a conversation in public. He loved the attention. We talked in the car, or in the house, or the phone.
Wonderful pieces. I have to travel on business a fair amount, and the opportunity this offers to watch people in anonymous fashion is a delight.
Again, these are wonderful bits.
Rebel Without An Hors D'ouvre ?
One of the trash mags this week quoted
(if they are to be believed)
Ms.Jolie saying
"our kids think we're embarrassing"
you can email me and tell me which actor has the sulky son if you like.
Antony Edwards, Gambon, a Fox? Martin Clunes?
Suchet, ...
now I have read Jan Moir in the Telegraph reviewing that gastropub very favourably, so I am glad for you to have dined well.
One only needs to do this occasionally for it to be effective.
I have been to London once, briefly, in winter 1976 and ate at Mr.Chow. There were Fortuny gowns down the staircase, and VOGUE people celebrating a birthday.
From your Rationale outline I see your Miraculous Mundanities, so I am inspired to relate one about vicarious luxury being the best kind:
I was at a Vice-Regal reception, under false-ish pretences and feeling very posh, a nice man struck up a conversation and I said to him
"I am the only broke and unemployed person here" and he said
"No you're not, I am too"
(his wife's position was his entre)
so now whenever I see a group of glamourazzi, I guess hardly any of them really are.
More Champagne!
My money's on Nigel Havers?!
Post a Comment