Heroes

I know, I know, it’s been ages since you’ve had an update. All I can say is well, I’ve been a bit crap and eaten a lot over Christmas and I’ve been working a lot too – hey, who’d have thought I’d be saying that 3 months ago. More about the work situation is to come in a later blog. For the moment though, I want to tell you about something that happened to me just before Christmas.

What happened was that I met one of my heroes. A major hero since I was young and a very famous one, akin to meeting Robert DeNiro if you’re a film buff or Kerry Katona if you shop at Iceland. I saw him as I was waiting to board a tube train. He looked familiar although I wasn’t sure if it was actually him until I heard him speak to his companion and recognised the unmistakable tones that I had heard so many times throughout my life. They now sounded a little more hoarse and slightly weary with age, but unmistakable none the less. The realisation of who I was standing next to dawned on me as the train passed in and out of the next station, with people embarking and disembarking and the crowds shuffling around. I had to pinch myself as he stood right next to me – what were the chances, and more importantly what was I going to do about it? Sure, I could go back to reading my book and be able to say “Hey, guess who I saw on the train today”. I wanted to speak to him though. That said, I also had a certain amount of trepidation. What if he turned out to be a dick and what if in his dickish disposition he would break my heart and crush a million memories as to why he was a hero in the first place..? They say never meet your heroes – well here was my chance to decide whether or not to take the plunge.

If I did nothing then I would regret it – that much I knew. For me the fear of regret is the one thing that will push me on to do things that I might otherwise shy away from. There are few things more saddening than walking away from something or someone and wondering, what if I’d said this? What if I’d done that..? What if..!?

More than that though, I wanted a conversation and one that included a two way exchange of views and didn’t make me sound like a sycophantic muppet.

The Hero in question, in case you’re wondering, was John Cleese. How do I start a conversation with John Cleese though in the middle of a tube train during the rush hour? Think you idiot, think!! My heart was palpitating and I grew more anxious as the train carried on its way. He may get off at the next stop for all I knew and the longer I faffed, the more likely it was that I’d end up torturing myself with a lugubrious cocktail of self-recrimination and regret. Everything was in slow motion as I blocked out passenger chatter and the grinding of the train wheels on the tracks. I stared into the middle of the train at no one as I evaluated potential conversation starters.

“Hey, I loved Fawlty Towers...”

No!

“Hey, are you going to do anymore Monty Python...?”

No!!

“So, Connie Booth.. Much of a goer..?”

No No No..!!!

I was snapped out of my fixed daze by the sound of “Ooh, are those Krispy Kremes?” It was JC’s companion and she was speaking to a guy directly behind me who held a big box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts in his arms and had the stature of someone who looked like he would be more than comfortable eating all of them. “Yes they are, but they’re not mine sadly” said the guy. “Aww they look delish” she replied. That was it, as I heard myself say “It’s funny, but there was a box just like that one on the desk of the girl next to me at work. It’s sort of an office ritual really”. “Oh really?” they both said in unison. “Yup, whenever it’s someone’s birthday they have to bring a box of Krispy Kremes into the office”. “I’d love to try them” said JC “but I have an intolerance to wheat”. “Oh I have a friend with the same problem” I said.

And that was it – suddenly I was engaged in a conversation with John Cleese and talking like we were old friends having a catch up. We talked and talked – films, writing, what he’s doing, what I’m doing – less exciting admittedly, and we were talking so easily that I hadn’t noticed that I had arrived at my stop. I saw the station sign as the doors opened. To quote the Clash – “should I stay or should I go?” Duh – I stayed – how often do these opportunities come around? I had no idea how far JC and his companion (she turned out to be his daughter) were going, but hey – what did I have to lose!? Finally we reached North Greenwich. “Ah this is our stop” he said. “Mine too” I said as I extended my hand “Well goodbye then, great to meet you”. “An absolute pleasure, goodbye” he said.

They walked to the exit and I walked to the opposite platform – utterly elated and like a child on Christmas morning. I had been avidly reading the book under my arm for over a week and it would have been the easiest thing in the world to get further into it. At that moment though, I had never been happier to keep a book closed.