Why I should wear my glasses instead of being so vain

Squinting into the sunlight in the distance, he grimaces, takes off his boots and jacket, stretches, taking in a huge gulp of air as he does so, and dives, deep deep deep down into the cool water, emerging soaked and with his dark hair tousled over his troubled brow. How many times have we watched this scene, pressed rewind, watched it again, rewound it one last time and watched it frame by frame by repeatedly pressing the pause button, examining every single nuance of facial expression?
You would think that when that self-same face, with that damp beshirted body strides towards you, albeit not wet, and somewhat more conventionally dressed, I’d recognise him. Not that he was striding towards me personally. Or any of the other squealing, flushed members of our book group. I didn’t recognise him straight off, and when one of the girls (who thinks I’m depressing and morose, and that this blog is depressing and morose, when actually, as I keep trying to explain, I have a melancholy soul, and this blog is gentle and thoughtful) said ‘It’s Colin Firth!’ I told her to give over. This is definitely one reason why I should wear my glasses. Because it was indeed Colin Firth, not as tall as we thought he’d be, but not as jowly either, being led to a small cordoned off area of the downstairs bar of the Curzon cinema in Soho. Our conversation about Iain Banks’ portrayal of an odd Scottish cult in his book Whit was cut short, while we all tried very hard not to stare too obviously or to dribble.
I slipped into a momentary fantasy of being a woman who was a cross between Elizabeth Bennett and the Portuguese woman from Love Actually, as I gazed at him waffling on interminably and gesticulating wildly to the guy he’d arrived with. There was at least a metre of hushed and sacred space around him, where no one dared to stand. And then he swept past us, with a gaggle of people trying to look totally cool about the fact that they were with Colin Firth, to do a Q and A downstairs.
What, we wondered, would we like to ask him? That question is probably best not answered in writing here…
mr-darcy

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5 responses to “Why I should wear my glasses instead of being so vain

  1. Colin Firth is devastatingly English, which I fear disqualifies him from being the object of your obsession; as I understand it, only Irishmen are entitled to be so.

    ps I was disappointed to see the word ‘doom’ appears but twice in your writings to date. Please address.

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