I didn't expect to be offered a shot of Grey Goose vodka with my breakfast. but that's how the day began.
It is my 'landlady's' birthday and so breakfast involved the opening of presents and a small nip before she went off to ride a Shire Horse! And before you ask, I didn't partake in the vodka. Just coffee for me. But what a lovely way to start the day.
I'll be wending my way in to town shortly to meet up with Peter Jay, who I think I called Anthony Jay previously? Shows how much attention I've been paying. I did meet him, briefly, last night, back stage. An elegant, witty man who explained the slight reticence of the audiences in Bath with the phrase, 'Well, it explains why this town created the Bath chair.' You can also tell by the compliments that he was correspondingly complimentary about my performance, although he was looking at Bill, our lead actor, when he pronounced the interview scene (or my scene, as I like to call it) very funny.
The actor who played my part in the West End did a very funny impersonation of Jeremy Paxman, I've been told. I'm not very good at impersonations, but people have asked me who it is I'm doing? The general consensus seems to be that I'm like Jon Snow, the news reader. I think it's just the grey hair? I have, for some years now, been mistaken for Jon Snow. I don't see it at all, but the odd taxi driver and person in the street has insisted that's who I am. If I try to put them right they do get rather cross. A taxi driver in Manchester once got very shirty with me. 'Oh, I see, you're trying not to be recognised? Well, sorry mate, but I've got you, so there's no point denying it. I know you're Jon Snow - but it doesn't impress me!'
It didn't impress me either. Jon Snow is well over six foot and has a long, thin face. I'm five foot eight with a round, slightly pudgy face. I will have to put up with it, though. The doorman at the Theatre Royal, Newcastle, last week, called me John every time I spoke to him. I didn't think much of it at the time but I realise now that he must have thought I was Jon Snow, despite my real name being in the programme which he got me to sign. The owners of the Italian restaurant at end of my street think I'm Jon Snow, as well. We found this out because, having popped in and made a booking, I returned later to find my son had got their first and had been greeted with, 'Ah, you are here with Mr Snow!'. They even asked him if I preferred to be called Mike in public so that people wouldn't know who I really was? I have told them I'm not Jon Snow but they just smile and wink and say, 'Of course not, (KNOWING PAUSE) Mike.' I can't go in there anymore as I feel like a fraud, they make such a fuss of me. They even asked me if I could provide a signed photo for their wall? What am I to do? Sign it 'With love, Jon Snow'?
Right, feel like I might write two blogs today so you may hear from me again. In the meantime, I'm off for my my brunch/lunch/tea or brunchea with Peter Jay. Either that or I'm going to pop along to Channel 4 and read the bloody news!
|Michael Fenton Stevens|