Thursday, September 14, 2006

Sol Struck

We arrive at the village pub, to find a famous footballer occupying the best table. I amble to the bar, and am soon joined by my excited father. His interest in football is not great enough that he can name the famous footballer, or that he knows any of the details of the famous footballer’s career, but he recognises the face of a celebrity and that is reason enough to be excited. When I mention the famous footballer’s name to him, he seems faintly aware that the famous footballer has recently signed for one of the local football teams but we still take a while establishing that the famous footballer and Rio Ferdinand are not the same person. My father seems unable to stop looking over his shoulder to stare at the famous footballer, much to my embarrassment. I cannot even interest him in dropping pennies through the grate of the deep well which sits in the middle of the village pub.

My dad doesn’t get to see celebrities often, so I try to excuse his over enthusiasm; I remember him excitedly pointing at a quizzical Jeffrey Archer on a trip to London once. Nor for that matter does the village pub often see many Girard-Perregaux watch wearing patrons clad in Versace shirts unbuttoned to the waist, exposing a muscled and waxed chest covered only by a sizeable silver crucifix. It’s just not a very farmer-like look

A 13-year-old boy clocks the famous footballer, and begins to excitedly point. I move my dad round the other side of the bar, before he joins him.

10 comments:

Raggedy said...

That sounded like fun!
Is it not fun having the tables turned and feeling like the parent?
Have a wonderful day!
*^_^
(=':'=) hugs
(")_ (")Š from da Cool Raggedy one

deanne said...

Oo oo - I saw that Grace chick and that Mike fella from Big Brother today by Goodge Street - they look really tall and skinny (and mingin', if I'm frank).

And they were holding hands *bleurgh*

deanne said...

Sorry not *bleurgh-ing* over the hand holding just the thought of those two sucking face. Ugh.

Chris said...

I saw Alaster Campbell in the car park in Andover Sainsburys. It was such a bizarre moment I said 'Fuck me, that's Alaster Campbell' really loud about a metere away from him. He gave me a withering alpha male glance, but I kept beaming like a twat at him.

Chris Cope said...

A few times since I've been here, I've gotten the impression that I was sitting near someone famous, or who thought they were famous, but I had no idea who they were. My guess is that they were Welsh-language "celebrities."

Dancinfairy said...

I was at a Corporate Do once and Vinnie Jones was sat behind me. It took a great deal of dutch courage but I finally asked him for his autograph. I was cacking myself at the time though.

Cleavers said...

I got a photo of me with Pacey this weekend at La Guardia airport.

My god, that man is a) tall and b) gorgeous. I had to phone my friend back in Toronto to ask her if it would be unbearably cheesy to ask him, she said no, so I stammered something at him that resulted in a photo.

*swoon*

Curly said...

I think that the idea of celebrities completely eludes my Dad, he used to tell us how he'd met Lord So and So or Prince whatnot. Whenever we pointed out a 'real' celebrity to him, he was indifferent.

Only once was he excited, that's when Chris Barrie was in town. I think that was only down to the fact that he'd watched Red Dwarf the night before.

Celeste said...

My dad has been mistaken for a celebrity.

I once met Dave Matthews, which was the highlight of my year.

Laura said...

Hey Huw! Glad you found my new place. In answer to your question - I can honestly say I have no idea how I did it. I think it might just be the way the template works. Sorry