I was in the china shop painting and a lady came in from the Great Ormond Street Hospital earnestly trying to get rid of some tickets for George Benson at The Royal Albert Hall....as many as we wanted...."but it's tonight. So out comes the phone....George Benson....who? George Benson....ahhh. can't....George Benson? Finally, Lazare is having an orgasm saying his name. Are you kidding? Yes. Yes. and Yes. He brought a friend....a housemate....one who he got along with as opposed to the one who steals all the food in his fridge.
I cycle there. My skirt gets caught in the chain a few times. I hike it up. There he is. Lazare in one of his many long scarves. We take our seats in the choir section which is just behind the stage. Close, but viewing almost from behind. Lazare looks right."Oh, if we could only sit in those box seats. "
I go to get us some drinks. I have a tray. Suddenly, an usher comes up to me..."Can I help you to your door? Is it this one?" She opens the door to the box seat. "Yes. Thank you." How did she know I was sitting there? There are about ten seats there. A couple are seated near the railing. "Oh. So sorry. Are we in your seats?" They were not supposed to be there, but I let them stay. I then waved over to Lazare and his friend who joined me. We enjoyed the show.
After the show, I had to wonder where the best seats were. We took a stroll and decided that half way back, on the gallery level was the most splendid box seat. Whoever had been there that night had left some half drunk bottles of champagne, wine, and a multi-teared silver tray of small glass vessels containing an alcoholic mousse. It was chocolate and coffee flavoured. Lazare hit a lunge pose and brought the champagne bottle to his lips. Chug. I felt transported to my college days. I would have at least got a glass. He then moves on to the delicate glasses and tries to knock them back, but the mousse stays in place. He shakes it. Just then, someone who had been in the room before comes back to pick up his backpack. It has been a work do. He sees Lazare in straddle mode and offers him a spoon. "Do you need a spoon mate?" Lazare replies, "No time for a spoon."
We part ways. I cycle home and see two people by The Ritz talking to a man who looks like Bill Nighy. It is him on closer inspection. I tell him that I loved his movie in India. He is just as docile and calm as he is on stage and screen....just tripping back from a cocktail bar. Mr. Gin and Tonic. He said he'd love to have seen George Benson and he liked my bike basket with all the flowers on it. That was when I had the turquoise collage bike.
I cycle there. My skirt gets caught in the chain a few times. I hike it up. There he is. Lazare in one of his many long scarves. We take our seats in the choir section which is just behind the stage. Close, but viewing almost from behind. Lazare looks right."Oh, if we could only sit in those box seats. "
I go to get us some drinks. I have a tray. Suddenly, an usher comes up to me..."Can I help you to your door? Is it this one?" She opens the door to the box seat. "Yes. Thank you." How did she know I was sitting there? There are about ten seats there. A couple are seated near the railing. "Oh. So sorry. Are we in your seats?" They were not supposed to be there, but I let them stay. I then waved over to Lazare and his friend who joined me. We enjoyed the show.
After the show, I had to wonder where the best seats were. We took a stroll and decided that half way back, on the gallery level was the most splendid box seat. Whoever had been there that night had left some half drunk bottles of champagne, wine, and a multi-teared silver tray of small glass vessels containing an alcoholic mousse. It was chocolate and coffee flavoured. Lazare hit a lunge pose and brought the champagne bottle to his lips. Chug. I felt transported to my college days. I would have at least got a glass. He then moves on to the delicate glasses and tries to knock them back, but the mousse stays in place. He shakes it. Just then, someone who had been in the room before comes back to pick up his backpack. It has been a work do. He sees Lazare in straddle mode and offers him a spoon. "Do you need a spoon mate?" Lazare replies, "No time for a spoon."
We part ways. I cycle home and see two people by The Ritz talking to a man who looks like Bill Nighy. It is him on closer inspection. I tell him that I loved his movie in India. He is just as docile and calm as he is on stage and screen....just tripping back from a cocktail bar. Mr. Gin and Tonic. He said he'd love to have seen George Benson and he liked my bike basket with all the flowers on it. That was when I had the turquoise collage bike.
No comments:
Post a Comment