One morning at breakfast when I was small my mum complained that we were out of milk. My dad said not to worry, as we were pretty much done. "Yes, but what if Paul Newman or Robert Redford come by for coffee?" she wanted to know. Who the hell were they? I'd never heard of them. If anyone came by for coffee it was usually Mrs Lancaster, the butcher's wife. For a number of years, I was half-expecting at least one of misters Newman or Redford to pop by for refreshments at some point between 10 and 11am.
We used to get the Radio Times. I just looked up the copy in question - December 1971, when I was six, with Brigitte Bardot on the cover. My sister, 10, pointed at it and said, "Dad's girlfriend's on the cover of the Radio Times." What the fuck? He's got a girlfriend? (As it happened, he had several, but that's another story). He had two, according to my sister - there was another one called Raquel Welch. I was quite impressed that someone we knew was famous enough to make the RT cover.
At some point, I must have seen or heard the names in other contexts. Hang on, isn't that bloke in this film the one who's supposed to be coming for coffee sometime? Wait, how come the other kids in the playground are talking about my Dad's girlfriend's cleavage? I didn't say anything, though. I had an instinctive feeling, born of experience, that everyone would start larfin' at me.
We used to get the Radio Times. I just looked up the copy in question - December 1971, when I was six, with Brigitte Bardot on the cover. My sister, 10, pointed at it and said, "Dad's girlfriend's on the cover of the Radio Times." What the fuck? He's got a girlfriend? (As it happened, he had several, but that's another story). He had two, according to my sister - there was another one called Raquel Welch. I was quite impressed that someone we knew was famous enough to make the RT cover.
At some point, I must have seen or heard the names in other contexts. Hang on, isn't that bloke in this film the one who's supposed to be coming for coffee sometime? Wait, how come the other kids in the playground are talking about my Dad's girlfriend's cleavage? I didn't say anything, though. I had an instinctive feeling, born of experience, that everyone would start larfin' at me.
Comment