So I went to the theatre the other night. During the interval I found myself finishing my glass of wine while Katherine popped to the loo.
I cast my eyes around looking for something to entertain them. And lo, Michael Howard oiled into view. I did the look away, look back, look away, look back thing that we all think we can get away with but know doesn’t really work.
Having decided that it was him, I decided that the best thing I could do was completely ignore him. I did this successfully and turned back to the cheeky rioja.
Glass finished, I then wandered off to get rid of the plastic receptacle*. The problem is, of course, that I had forgotten about Michael Howard a bit too much. I realized that I was, essentially, sidling up to him. But of course I was still looking down in case there had been a spare ledge for my empty placky plonk-holder.
I looked up and realised that I’d actually got within a few feet of him. And then as he raised the various bits of cheek around his mouth in what I’m sure he’s been reassured resembles a smile – a smile learned from a book – I realized that he thought I was approaching him.
What do I do? Should I say something? Should I ask him if he really did threaten to overrule Derek Lewis? I nearly did. I really did. But then I thought, no, it’s an old joke. He’s probably heard it quite a few times. So instead I simply turned around and walked off towards some likely looking ledges.
I wonder what he thought. Maybe he’ll leave a comment?
* We clearly need a better name than “plastic glass” for plastic glasses. Any suggestions?