Saturday, April 02, 2011
Heston
I am buying beer, chicken thighs, carrots and bread at the Co-Op. The cashier is unusually smily and chatty. "Hello, how are you today?" she says chirpily. "Um, very well thanks," I say, more or less truthfully. Then, rather halfheartedly, "And yourself?" She informs me that she too is very well. Then she says, "You know, in those glasses you look a bit like Heston." I assume she means cookery's Mr Science, Heston Blumenthal, rather than Charlton Heston (the possibility of which only occurs to me later). I do not resemble Mr Blumenthal and my glasses do not resemble Heston Blumenthal's glasses. Nevertheless for the duration of a four item purchase we conduct a conversation about the proprietor of The Fat Duck in Bray during which it becomes apparent, to me at least, that the girl on the till knows considerably more about him than I do (I consider mentioning that Dave McKean illustrated his last book but decide against it). I am informed, for instance, that she made his orange chocolate cake (I think that was it, though that seems rather ordinary for HB - possibly it was lychee and squirrel and I've misremembered) at Christmas. It was good, apparently.
The transaction complete we wish each other a pleasant evening and I depart. I think about it some more. I really do not look like Heston Blumenthal. My glasses really, really do not resemble Heston Blumenthal's glasses. What she was saying, I conclude, was "you are bald and wear spectacles." Fair enough then.
The transaction complete we wish each other a pleasant evening and I depart. I think about it some more. I really do not look like Heston Blumenthal. My glasses really, really do not resemble Heston Blumenthal's glasses. What she was saying, I conclude, was "you are bald and wear spectacles." Fair enough then.
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