Tuesday, 8 December 2009

Psyched

All of last week, I was very much looking forward to the weekend just gone: partly so I could escape the work I am doing at the moment (I would be more mentally stimulated watching In The Night Garden for 8 hours a day), and partly because my new hob unit was due to be delivered.

When I bought The Hob, the sales guy arranged for a Saturday delivery and said it would be delivered any time between 11am and 5pm, an ever-so-slightly better time window than you would get for a plumber or sparky.  The John Lewis delivery guy whupped the plumber/sparky's ass*: he phoned me at 10:30 to say he would be about 45 minutes and then promptly arrived at 11:15!

And there was I, all mentally prepared to spend the day in the flat, tidying and boxing things up, only to find myself free to hit the shops ... which I promptly did, of course.  How could I not with Christmas only just round the corner???

Several hours later, filled to the brim with stress-relief cuppas and carrying numerous bags of potential Christmas presents, I landed back home ready to start getting sorted for the Centralian Players Christmas dinner at the Blue Check in Bushey.

The Blue Check is a bit of a perennial favourite with the group as it combines a good atmosphere with great food: I would highly recommend the Peppered Steak with chilli and white wine sauce ... lush!!

I had been convinced that grabbing a lift with someone would be a wise thing to do so that I could have a drink, something of a first with these events: nobody in the group has ever seen me drunk before.  They might never again, either.  Not that I did anything untoward, I was just a bit ... merry.  They're not used to seeing me happy!!

During all this seasonal merriment, something happened that was slightly sobering, at least for a short while.

At one point in the night, a guy in a blue shirt was walking past my chair, so I moved it in to give him a bit of space, as you do.  What I didn't expect was for him to place two hands on my shoulders and have the following conversation with me:

Man: You're better off acting
Me: Sorry?
Man: You're better off acting.  I recognise you!
Me: Oh...

Now, he could have meant that he recognised the whole group (as he was behind me I couldn't see who he was looking at), or it could have been that he thought I was someone else (something that has happened too many times to count**), but at that moment in time, I had the idea that he recognised me personally from being on stage ... and it wasn't quite the thrill I thought it might be.

In fact, it was a little bit freaky.

So much so that I stopped my drunken jabbering for at least ten minutes.  Or however long it was until someone managed to distract me!

I'm hoping he meant that he recognised the group...



* Thankfully not in the literal sense.  I'm not sure I could cope with seeing that ... that's a rather disturbing image!!
** Years ago, there was a guy who would be pushing his kid through town with his wife and he would always say hello and wave.  I haven't the foggiest idea who he was or who he thought I was.  He got a bit narked when I stopped waving and started frowning...

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