At the table beside me sat someone whose face I sort of recognised.
I was sure he was famous. A quick enquiry of the barman cleared
the matter up It was Bernie Eccleston of Formula
1 fame. Acting very casually, I wandered past, glancing innocently
at him and smiled knowingly. He smiled and said hello. I’d
had a conversation with somebody important after years of trying.
Unfortunately I was so overcome with emotion, or
something, that I bumped into a table, almost knocking over an elderly
gentleman’s drink. I apologised profusely, but he simply smiled
and said he did that sort of thing all the time. When I returned
to my own seat, the barman came over ,
“I see you’ve already met the King
of Sweden” he said.
“Feck” I said.
And it really was the King. This was getting all
too much for me. Maybe we should have gone to Portrush as usual.
However this is a rugby story.
At dinner that night, we managed to negotiate the massed
ranks of royalty, film stars, pop singers etc to find a table overlooking
the pool. A long and very liquid evening followed – a delicious
meal (incredible prawns) washed down by copious amounts of white
wine. Sitting out in the warm Mauritian evening listening to the
gentle waves of the Indian Ocean was magnificent. Romantic or what?
Well, anyway, this is a rugby story.
Our spell was broken by the sound of a very Welsh voice.
“Hi, I noticed you’d an Ulster
Rugby Top on earlier – I saw them play once!”
I looked up to see who had interrupted our reverie.
“Bleedin’ heck” I stammered
(or something like that).
It was Charlotte Church!!!
Well actually it wasn’t.
“Bet you think I’m Charlotte Church
– everyone does” said the attractive Welsh girl before
sitting down beside us. “ I’m only her cousin but we
must look really alike.”
My pulse gradually reduced to a level unlikely
to cause a massive heart attack and we entered into a fascinating
conversation, mostly little juicy stories about Charlotte. However,
as this is a rugby story I’m sure you don’t want to
be bored by such matters. Much more interesting is the fact that
Gavin “Tango” Henson is actually
a very decent bloke who was glad to see Ulster win the Celtic
League. (Remember the way he signaled to the ref that Humphreys’s
drop goal was good).
As a result of our chance meeting, Charlotte’s
cousin is the proud, I hope, owner of an Ulster Rugby jersey and
she has promised to come to our Welsh games next season.
So, in the space of a few days, I’d met Bernie
Eccleston, the King of Sweden, some actress who’d appeared
in The Bill and Holby City, a Portuguese footballer who was more
than a bit peeved at not being selected for the World Cup (presumably
he wasn’t good at falling down), and various English Lords
and Ladies.
But most important of all was meeting Gavin Henson’s
girlfriend’s cousin.
I said this was a rugby story. |