"I hate to be a name dropper, but...." How many times have you heard that phrase only to know full well that the dropper is not the least bit ashamed or reluctant to drop the name that inevitably follows the phrase? After all, how many of us get the chance in our ordinary lives to drop a nice juicy name in the middle of a casual conversation? My friend, Peter Innes, and I like to play the game with a fair dollop of facetiousness now and then, but the truth is, as a former diplomat for Her Majesty's government, he's had exposure to some big names so our games don't usually last that long. What I find is that he keeps telling new stories while I am forced to recycle all my old ones.
So I have introduced him to a perverse form of the name-dropping game where we cite strange and obscure but true references, trying to get farther and farther away from the famous. For example: When I lived in San Diego in the early 70s, I used to live in the same apartment complex as Gary Puckett of the Union Gap. I have seen his corvette parked outside it, but never him. Or, one of my best friends in San Diego had the bed next to Dusty Springfield's sister when she had her baby. (Dusty came during visiting hours.) When I lived in Key West I had a friend whose parents had once been caretakers of the Hemingway's' Key West home. My all-time favorite is that I knew the man who once was the head organist at the Heinz pickle factory. (Apparently, the noise on the shop floor was too much for Muzak to be heard and so they put a Wurlitzer organ in and hired people to play it.)
I tell you all of this so I can tell you this story. The other night Don and I sat down to watch a rented DVD of Cold Comfort Farm, a film we had seen in the Washington, DC, area during its first run in the early 90s. On that occasion, we went along for a Saturday afternoon matinee to one of our favorite theatres in Chevy Chase and, as usual, took seats on the aisle. Just as the house lights dimmed, a man in a suit tapped me on the shoulder and said "Maam, would you two mind moving over a couple of seats, please?" Without even thinking about it really, we just got up and moved over. There were empty seats behind us and in front of us which should have made us wonder at the request, but before that thought occurred to us, there was a flurry in the aisle as two men in suits took their places in the aisle just below our seats and a man and woman came into our row to sit beside us in the seats we had just occupied. Then the men in suits took the seats in front of and behind this couple.
The man entering our row from the left was wearing a short-sleeved checked sport shirt and tan chinos and I recognized him immediately but couldn't think where from. He looked very familiar. One of Don's colleagues at AU? A member of our church? I had said an instinctive and very friendly, "Oh hi!" before I realized the man was then Vice President Al Gore in civvies and wearing eyeglasses. (I was struck by how much more handsome he was in glasses than without them. I'm convinced he would be our president today if only he had worn his glasses and dressed more casually during his campaign.)
Tipper sat on the aisle and as they settled in, the film was just starting. Sometimes when I am overwhelmed by a situation I blurt out strange things. I turned to Al and said "You're going to just love this movie!" He replied "I hope so. I've read good things about it." Before ten minutes had gone by, Tipper got up and went to the snack bar for candy for the two of them to munch on. For my part, I spent the entire film worrying about where my left leg was and keeping my elbow off the left arm rest! So it was nice to watch the film this week with no distractions.
My only distraction this time around during the film was my knitting. I have begun knitting a pair of socks for myself. Well, actually, I have begun with just the one sock for now. No sense getting ahead of myself. As I said in an earlier blog, I'm using the revolutionary new method of knitting socks which calls for using two curved needles. This cuts down on the need for 4 small double-pointed needles (often referred to as the "porcupine" method of sock-making). Kay was knitting socks in Dingle every night in the pub and showed me how to do the tricky bits. Never in my life did I think I'd take on such a project but I am loving it. So far. I don't think I've dropped but one stitch and by the time I realized it, I had long gone past it. I may be able to pick the stitch up later (with some expert help) but it won't do any major harm if I don't.
As to the diet, I seem to have reached a plateau at 9 lbs, but I persevere. That doesn't stop me talking and reading about food, however. This morning I had coffee with Catherine Brown who lives in Comrie and joined our So and Sews circle a year ago. She happens to be a food writer and has just published two cookery books. One is a new edition of a book she and a friend wrote several years ago about the recipes of and best sources for food throughout the British Isles. The other is a recipe book about Scottish cooking. She writes a weekly food column for the Sunday Times. This morning I went to her flat which sits next to Comrie's library. We sat in the kitchen which is warmed by a cast-iron solid fuel stove (a stove for heating, not for cooking). We had the nicest chat over cups of the most wonderful strong coffee, espresso actually. It turns out her family, the Braithwaites, own a coffee and tea importing business in Dundee. This woman knows from coffee. She has convinced me we need to get one of those espresso pots (not a fancy electric one but the little kind that goes right on the hob). Next time she's in Dundee, she's going to bring me back half a pound of Colombian coffee which is specially roasted. Mmmm.
Don played a bit of golf this morning and then attended the St. Fillans Music programme in the afternoon. Gordon dropped by this afternoon and, over a coffee, showed me the route to take so we can drive ourselves to and from Edinburgh on Thursday evening for dinner with friends and a jazz concert. Normally we'd take the train but the concert lets out so late that we'd just miss the 10:30 train and have to wait around until 11:30 for the train back to Dunblane. WIth an hour for the train journey plus another half hour's drive to get home, we'd be very late indeed. We decided to drive. Gordon and Helen not only grew up in Edinburgh but go there routinely as both their children live there as does Helen's brother. If we are able to follow Gordon's instructions, we just may make it home an hour or more earlier than if we took the train.
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