Once again, on Wednesday evening, I found myself miraculously* transported to Floral Street and I took my position outside the Stage Door of the Royal Opera House. Sometime next week I shall reflect at length at the stupidity of people who hang around Stage Doors for a fleeting glimpse of their heroes. I am of course top of the stupid list!
I knew I had quite a wait and I did go through all this "What am I doing here," and a feeling of self-consciousness, or perhaps a glint of self-awareness that such waiting is not the most constructive or sensible use of time.
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I couldn't actually see the Stage Door as such, but obviously there was *someone* there. I say obviously, because people were calling out 'hello' and so on, but I didn't make the analytical leap that if other people are saying 'hello' there was a chance I might want to. Then I was conscious of two people walking along the pavement, and a vague thought of "I'm in the way" followed by "that man is tall!" followed by "I know him from somewhere" followed by "it's Bryn" and by the time my jaw had fallen open he had moved on. (Bear in mind that he was so close to me I think I actually damaged my neck muscles in looking up - the angle was acute!). And the woman next to me and I just turned to each other and said "That was Bryn! and she started saying how she liked him but she really doesn't like his crossover stuff, and I have this word association thing that goes Bryn - Crossover - Faye and I phoned Faye but her phone was on voicemail, and then about five minutes later she turned up, which was sort of excellent comic timing.
But although I admire Bryn Terfel, I wouldn't leave work early and cross the city just to see him walk down Floral Street. Whereas I would do that for Plácido Domingo. Who duly obliged by walking down Floral Street...! Needless to say, Faye spotted him first. He strolled over to where we were and asked us how we were, and I took a photo
I was just about to step forward and talk to him when Faye leapt in front of me (I should have had her arrested for obstruction) and asked him to sign her CD cover. So, that was another chance gone. Sigh...
The woman next to us had been saying - based perhaps on her TV viewing of the Classical Brits that he's not looking good - gaunt in the face - but Faye and I politely demurred. Then a few minutes later this woman agreed that he most definitely is looking good.
* in truth, the 77A bus helped with this miracle
