I began the era of 'living my life as though I were in a movie'
before I was actually making them by going to England to buy Bentleys
and enjoy the sights and sounds of swinging London that was dominating
the cultural scene at the time. I was able to experience the new pop
culture while being tutored in the old school (lessons of all sorts
provided by my friend W.J.D. Clarke not the least of which was to always
pronounce the last consonants), which provided quite a contrast L
ord's being what it was and Carnaby Street, well...
Staying at the Garrick Hotel, I looked out my window one morning to see
a half dozen Bobbies trying to break into my dark blue S1 Bentley
parked below on Charing Cross Road. I flew down the stairs and managed
to convince them I was undeserving of a citation--David Hemmings having
set the stage for unlikely Rolls/Bentley drivers--and they let me off
with a warning about double yellow lines. In the States, rock & roll
types were commonly seen in sports cars but infrequently in Bentleys.
One day, I was at a gas station where my stepmother and I were filling
our tanks and, after I'd driven off in my Bentley, an incredulous man
approached her asking, "Do you know him? What on Earth does he do for a
living?" I'm not sure how she answered that question because I'm still
struggling with it...
All this came back to me as we enjoyed
afternoon tea with French friends in Donegal at the Central Hotel. I've
enjoyed afternoon teas at the Brown's in Mayfair, The Shelbourne in
Dublin and at Eala Bhan in Sligo but the style of the Central was
reminiscent of London during the 'Bentley' years sporting a vintage feel
and atmosphere--the only thing lacking were the red double-decker buses
and the scent of London diesel in the air. In those days, I was too
young to be out on my own but, nevertheless, there I was taking trains
to Southampton (that served very nice luncheons with starched white
linen table cloth and waiters who understood customer service) to look
at a Bentley I just had to have, flooding the bathtub at the London
Hilton on Park Lane (an American ritual, I was told) and trying to
follow the thread of Cockney rhyming slang in a theatrical presentation,
which would have been quite a feat had I managed it--years later, I
heard that Sean Connery and his friends would hang out in a Santa Monica
pub called The Mucky Duck and it still hadn't dawned on me what that
meant (!!).
A lot of pleasant memories were stimulated by our
visit to the Central but, just as surely, we were creating new ones with
our friends as we managed to make 'afternoon tea' last a full seven
hours and, to their credit, that was fine with the staff at the Central
Hotel
No comments:
Post a Comment