Imagine being a celebrity. Constantly hounded by the press, no moment of your life passes by without the world watching. It must be exhausting.
There was a time once, at The Goodwood Revival, that I kicked off my high heels and ran from the Veuve tent to the end of the pits, chasing Patrick Stewart. I wanted an autograph, very unlike me, but we all have our heroes, and Patrick was one of mine.
Don’t underestimate the effort it took to catch up with him either; pencil skirts are not the easiest thing to run in, it was like watching a worm wiggle its way through a crowd. I caught him and, out of breath, I asked if he would mind signing my press armband.
“I’m ever so sorry my dear,” he said, placing my hands in his leathery palms “It’s my day off.”
I gathered my shoes and what was left of my dignity. I had just been pied by Professor X.
I’ll admit, I was a little disgruntled. His career and his right to be racing at such a prestigious event is, in part, down to the fans. So I feel that taking the time to sign something is just part of his job. After all, the pay isn’t too shabby. A squiggle of ink on a piece of paper every so often isn’t massively putting yourself out. However, part of me respected his request just to be ‘Patrick.’
Celebrities deserve a day off, don’t they? To blend into the environment without being noticed.
Except for David Beckham, who has been spotted riding a vintage motorcycle around LA with a massive golden ball on his head. Doing his very best not to blend in to any environment at all. Unless that environment is President Trump’s lift.
Source: The Sun