the bear's wings
After the Christmas meal the other week (for once I got a practical present in the Secret Santa: a bottle of gin) Paul Jones and Dave and I stood in our kitchen discussing our ‘ultimate wish’. Paul’s was something completely incomprehensible involving the Starship Enterprise, and Dave quickly settled for ‘Kelly Brook covered in jam’, but I couldn’t oblige because I don’t believe in making wishes. I’ve read The Monkey’s Paw, so I know that if you make a wish and it comes true it will probably come true in a bad way. Hence Dave would end up with the corpse of Kelly Brook, who would have been drowned in a vat of jam. Or if she were alive and covered in jam, she’d just be impossibly angry about it.
Something I have never wished for is to meet Rustie Lee and this came true nonetheless. She was in the shop signing copies of her new book, which has a slightly off-putting picture on the cover of her smiling in a strained way and holding up a whisk, looking rather as though she has had to extract it from somewhere uncomfortably intimate. Still, the book is meant to be really good, at least according to Rustie Lee, who was on Phoenix FM just before coming to us, singing its praises to Xanthe Bearman (aka: ‘The Bear at Lunchtime’). I was listening to Rustie on the radio, and then there she was in the flesh (and plenty of it). Well you don’t get this with Ken Bruce. And she seemed very pleasant, though not so approachable that I could ask her the one thing I really wanted to know: ‘What’s Xanthe Bearman really like?’
Too late now. Two days later that Bear had flown, snatched up by Essex FM, who wanted her in spite of the fact that she was largely indistinguishable from ‘Gemma’, who presents the breakfast show. What clinched the deal? Her air of sounding like the receptionist who has to fill in at the last moment when the real DJ falls ill? Or does it help to know Rustie? Maybe I should have talked to her. I could do with being whisked off somewhere.
Although she might have a different interpretation of that phrase.
Something I have never wished for is to meet Rustie Lee and this came true nonetheless. She was in the shop signing copies of her new book, which has a slightly off-putting picture on the cover of her smiling in a strained way and holding up a whisk, looking rather as though she has had to extract it from somewhere uncomfortably intimate. Still, the book is meant to be really good, at least according to Rustie Lee, who was on Phoenix FM just before coming to us, singing its praises to Xanthe Bearman (aka: ‘The Bear at Lunchtime’). I was listening to Rustie on the radio, and then there she was in the flesh (and plenty of it). Well you don’t get this with Ken Bruce. And she seemed very pleasant, though not so approachable that I could ask her the one thing I really wanted to know: ‘What’s Xanthe Bearman really like?’
Too late now. Two days later that Bear had flown, snatched up by Essex FM, who wanted her in spite of the fact that she was largely indistinguishable from ‘Gemma’, who presents the breakfast show. What clinched the deal? Her air of sounding like the receptionist who has to fill in at the last moment when the real DJ falls ill? Or does it help to know Rustie? Maybe I should have talked to her. I could do with being whisked off somewhere.
Although she might have a different interpretation of that phrase.
posted by martin at 10:46 AM
1 Comments:
The Bear has flown to BBC Essex actually!
It didn't help knowing Rustie Lee. I'd already been offered the job.
You can ask what I'm really like at myspace.com/xanthebearman.
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