July 07, 2005

...And Then Kevin Bacon Walked In

I guess I can no longer complain that my job at Greywalls is dull.

There I was, this afternoon, just minding my own business, when all of a sudden I hear the loud clackety-clack of a helicopter. I look up, and the thing is swooping over the tree line and coming around to land just outside the garden wall. Needless to say this is not the sort of thing that happens very often in the middle of East Lothian.

About a minute (not even) after the chopper touched down, a man entered the garden wearing sunglasses and carrying a clipboard. I thought maybe there was a lull in the G8 proceedings and Bush et al. had decided to zip down for a round of golf on the adjacent Muirfield golf course, which has in the past catered to such dignitaries as the Sultan of Brunei.

The man in the sunglasses walked over to me. "Are you..." he said, scanning the clipboard in his hand, "Andrew Ladd?"


A second helicopter was now circling and preparing to set down.

"This isn't about trying to take my coffee on the bus the other day, is it?" I wanted to ask. Instead I timidly answered 'yes' and waited for the pistol-whip.

Well, as it turned out, the man actually had nothing to do with the helicopters and had just happened to drive in as they were setting down. In fact, he was a TV producer coming to scout out the exhibition ahead of a film crew coming tomorrow. He had told the Gallery he was coming, they had told him I would be there, but nobody had bothered to tell me anything.

So I took him on an impromptu tour of the show, and as we strolled he asked me the question that I've become resigned to hearing for pretty much the rest of my life:

"Where's your accent from?"

"Certain areas of my brain that control minute contractions of my vocal tract," I thought, but decided this was too much of a technical answer.

Instead, I gave him the stock précis of my life, he told me that he'd learned his craft at Concordia, and we spent the rest of his visit discussing the relative merits of St-Viateur bagels as opposed to Fairmount bagels. It was quite surreal. And I never did find out what the deal was with the helicopters.


PS. Dear World Leaders,

Thanks for the thought, but I've actually had quite enough of all the fringe benefits that your presence in my country brings with it. So, you know, you can really go home any time now. Honestly. That would be just fine.


At 8/7/05 15:12, Blogger Mariana said...

Certain areas of my brain that control minute contractions of my vocal tract

Your father would be so proud.

Oh, and I have once had to discard a coffee (late for work), and once had to finish my coffee while waiting for the next bus (to the airport so the next was pretty soon) but I've always been allowed to eat. I actually suspect the no hot drinks rule has something to do with this

At 9/7/05 08:34, Blogger Andrew said...

Ahem. I think she means this, folks.

At 9/7/05 14:30, Blogger Mariana said...

Oh, I'm so embarassed. I think I'll take out my emotions by spitting on a bus driver.


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