...ate dinner at Pizza Express tonight on Earl's Court Road, with an old man who could have been his father or uncle but I'd like to think of as his Morrie.
That is my theory mostly because he very clearly wasn't English and although I sadly wasn't close enough to hear much of their dinner conversation (and thus didn't catch Morrie's accent to note if it was similar), their meeting embrace did not scream "close family relatives" to me. Come to think of it, it didn't scream "dear friends" either, but maybe it's early days in their mentoring relationship. I digress.
I wish Susannah had been there, partly because I know she likes Pizza Express, and partly because she's MUCH better at pegging foreign homelands based on physical features and accents than me. The best we could do was "not Italian" and someone at the table threw out "Lebanese" as a potential (which bodes well for my good friend Basim).
I must have said something about how beautiful he was a dozen times...and on reflection, I've realized it wasn't in the typical girly playful way. I honestly was just in awe. He was so pretty that I wouldn't even dream of joking about him as my "boyfriend" (as I do about about at least one stranger each day on the tube or otherwise around town). It was more admiration than wistful hope.
What I mean to say is that it felt like a sight-seeing event. You know...Tower of London, check; Buckingham Palace, check; Most Beautiful Man, check.
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2 comments:
I witnessed this sudden obsession last night at dinner....our normal people watching became extreme when he walked in...she mentally left us at the dinner table and joined La-La land with him! :)
Fantastic. Can you believe I picked out Croatian and Greek?? Too bad you don't have a photo. I could so some e-analysis.
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