Читать книгу Life's a Laugh - Valerie Miličević - Страница 13

Hollow legs

On transfer to London, I was housed in a Civil Service hostel in Hyde Park Gate. Working at a function for the Polish Harvest Festival at the Festival Hall, I was in charge of the coffee machine.

Time and again a certain Pole swayed towards me for coffee until I got pissed off and said “You're drunk and if you ask me for one more cup of coffee, I'll tip the pot over your head!” Next day one of the hostel residents came to me and said there were two blokes downstairs wanting to talk to me. “What do they look like?” I asked. “Never mind what they look like, you should see the limo!”

So, intrigued I go down to be confronted by dronkie* and his mate, come to ask Norma and I out to dinner. “By the way, I'm not a drunk, just have two wooden legs, courtesy of a motor bike accident in Scotland!” Well to say how terrible I felt would be putting it mildly!

We duly went out to dinner, had a great time and went back to their apartment for coffee. We find the walls of the apartment are papered with dozens of autographed photos taken with the various celebrities they'd met in their travels around the globe as entertainers!

*Afrikaans: drunk person