From Day and Night in today's Irish Independent
Orlando Bloom is huge in LA right now. Literally. On Hollywood Boulevard and the Sunset Strip, Bloom looms over the city from gigantic billboards promoting one of the 2007’s most eagerly-awaited movies and the conclusion to one of the most successful movie trilogies in cinema history. If Bloom has a big head – literally and figuratively – it would be perfectly understandable.
But on a dull Thursday morning in the Beverly Hilton hotel, eight days before the release of Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End, Orlando Bloom is, if anything, more humble than ever. Dressed in a black jacket, grey top and dark jeans and boots, Bloom seems shy and somewhat uncomfortable when thrust in the spotlight.
Having spent the best part of the last eight years playing either elf warrior Legolas or swashbuckler Will Turner in two of the most lucrative and popular movie franchises ever, Bloom has clocked up more experience in the field of Hollywood blockbusters than most actors would in a lifetime. The question is, after Lord of the Rings and Pirates, what does an actor do next?
“I’m going back to London to do some theatre,” a relaxed and tanned Bloom says. “I need to do something completely different now. I want to go back to what it felt like when I left drama school – you know, that feeling of immersing myself in a completely different world.
“The only thing I don’t want to feel again is how poor I was when I left drama school. I definitely don’t need to go back there!
“I feel very fortunate. I mean, it feels like I’ve been doing pirate movies for most of my adult life, but it’s been great because obviously this is a quality film and I’ve been working with terrific people. It’s been a fantastic safety net as it were. It’s certainly a bittersweet feeling to be saying goodbye to it.
“It’s kind of a transition time for me now, having gotten to the end of a big series of movies. I’m excited about doing new film work, but mainly theatre. Geoffrey Rush and Bill Nighy [his Pirates co-stars], two actors I really admire, have told me that mixing theatre with film keeps them sharp. I’ve been toying with the idea for a long time. I just realised I had to make the time because movies kept coming in. I needed to create space for it.”
And space is just what Bloom has created. His IMDb profile confirms that Bloom has no up-coming movie projects in production at the moment. Who could blame him? The three Pirates movies alone took a combined total of four years to make, with parts two and three shot back-to-back in an epic and troubled 284 day shoot.
Aside from the workload, there’s also the staggering level of expectation that is accompanying At World’s End. The first movie, The Curse of the Black Pearl, was an unexpected smash hit, grossing $654 million in 2003. But the sequel, Dead Man’s Chest, defied box-office records despite poor reviews, pulling in an astonishing $1 billion worldwide gross, placing it at number three in the list of all-time box office champs.
This would indicate that the Pirates franchise has a loyal, inbuilt fan base and that At World’s End is probably impervious to any criticism. In its own right, the movie is more enjoyable that the middle instalment, although its plot is highly convoluted. Be that as it may, the movie boasts some terrific action set-pieces, lots more of Johnny Depp’s idiosyncratic posturing and a much-anticipated Keith Richards cameo.
“What’s so cool about this trilogy is that it was in response to the audience that the second and third were made,” Bloom explains. “We set out making the first movie and we never intended to make more, unlike Lord of The Rings, which was always going to be three movies. It was no easy feat for everyone to take what was meant to be just one movie and spin it into a second and third. I think it’s exciting because it feels that no matter what anyone says or writes about this film, the audience has taken ownership of it at this point.”
Orlando Bloom was born in Canterbury in England in 1977. As a child, Bloom struggled in school due to dyslexia, but excelled at drama and the arts. At age 16, he moved to London to join the National Youth Theatre, and later trained in the Guildhall School of Music and Dance. It was while performing in a production for the college that Bloom met director Peter Jackson, who then cast him as Legolas in the Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003), propelling Bloom into superstardom.
In addition to the Tolkien epics, Bloom also starred in the historical blockbusters Troy, opposite Brad Pitt and Kingdom of Heaven, with Liam Neeson. In 2005, Bloom tried to move way from action roles and was cast in his first modern leading part in Cameron Crowe’s Elizabethtown, which bombed at the box office and was skewered by critics.
Talking to Bloom, it’s clear that he has struggled with the level of fame and scrutiny that his successes – and failures – have opened him up to.
“The attention I got after Lord of The Rings put me more in to a shell,” he admits. “It made me a little shyer. It was very new and I wasn’t sure how to deal with it and I think I’m still learning how to come out of that shell.
“This trilogy coming to a close and moving into other work is giving me confidence in myself to work on my craft in another way. It’s going to be fun. I know what I’m capable of and I’m not afraid to make mistakes along the way. I’ve found that when you’ve been a part of so much success and people associate you with success, if you make a step wrong, then they shoot you down. Having turned 30 this year, I’ve realised there’s nothing at stake, nothing to lose and everything to gain.”
That birthday was, Bloom admits, a turning point in his life. “I just felt like I didn’t have to take myself seriously anymore,” he says. “It was a big relief to be honest and I had a great birthday in Hawaii with friends and some family.
“It’s been fantastic being a part of such successful trilogies, but turning 30 made me look at how fortunate I’ve been and so I asked, ‘What can I do that will challenge me in a totally different way?’”
Both the Lord of the Rings and the Pirates movies have been separately called the Star Wars for the Bebo/MySpace generation. Indeed, Bloom’s roles in these trilogies put him in the same bracket as Harrison Ford, whose career was defined by the Star Wars and Indiana Jones trilogies. But the major difference is that Bloom was not the key character of LOTR and in the Pirates movies, he’s more Mark Hamill than Ford, playing the straight-man to the swaggering, scene-stealing genius of Johnny Depp in his iconic role as Captain Jack Sparrow. So, did it get annoying playing second-fiddle in what is essentially The Johnny Depp Show?
Bloom laughs. “You know, I’d often watch Johnny as Jack and just marvel at his ability to physically create this character,” he says. “And Geoffrey [Rush] had freedom to act written right across his forehead so he was just be totally out there. But actually, watching the first two, my character Will is like the emotional core. He’s got clear objectives – to save his dad and get the girl and be willing to die for those – and there was something heroic and simple about that that made him central in his own right.
“But Johnny’s probably one of the most courageous actors and movie stars alive today. He’s made a career of not being afraid to fail. If I could have just a tiny bit of that and a bit of that rubbed off, I’d be very lucky.”
Outside of movies, Bloom has also become involved in environmental issues, and is one of several celebrities that launched the Global Cool campaign last year that aims to tackle global warming by encouraging people to reduce their ‘carbon footprint’. The green star is even in the process of building an eco-friendly house in London.
“Yeah my home in London will have solar panels to heat the place,” he explains. “We all have to just do what we can.
“I just got back from a mission to Antarctica where I heard and was shown so much evidence about melting ice caps. The environment is such a massive issue, and everyone thinks its doom and gloom, all or nothing, but I don’t think that’s the case.
“You can drive an SUV but there’s a balance. Maybe use energy efficient lightbulbs or be conscious of switching off lights or, if you can afford an SUV, then maybe make a contribution to a windfarm. It’s all about balance. If you think of the ice caps as the fridge of our planet, then if that fridge dies, then the food that you have in it would go rotten and you’d starve. We all have to be aware of it.”
Bloom himself freezes up, however, when the subject of his love life comes up, and no amount of charm or coaxing can melt his resolve. Bloom was dating Superman Returns actress Kate Bosworth for four years, but the couple broke up last year. Since then, he has been linked to Spanish star Penelope Cruz, but Bloom refuses to go into it.
“I’m looking forward to having a family one day,” he says. “When I meet the right partner, I’ll be happy to settle down. And I’m not moving back to London because of a relationship – unless you count my dog!”
Once the publicity schedule for At World’s End dies down, Bloom is looking forward to taking some time out to relax. After such an intense period of work, his private time is very important to the star. So how does he unwind from it all?
“I try to keep it very real,” he reveals. “I have great family and friends, I have a cool dog and I’ve been afforded an ability to make a home and create a real life. When you work in such a surreal environment, time off to just read a book or listen to music or hang out with friends or even time alone is very special, so I’m enjoying that now.”
As I prepare to leave, I ask Bloom if his move to theatre work will follow in the steps of Harry Potter star Daniel Radcliffe, who has generated headlines all over the world for doing full-frontal nudity in the stage production of Equus.
“You’re asking if I’m going to get naked in London?,” he laughs. “Well, I’m very fortunate that I’ve learned how to be comfortable on a huge Jerry Bruckheimer-style movie set, but I feel I’m not as comfortable in a theatre, with a live audience, so that’s going to be a challenge. I want that fear and I’m going to give it my best shot.” And as he gets up, Bloom smiles and adds: “Not sure I’ll be getting my bits and pieces out though!”
Declan Cashin
Friday, May 25, 2007
Single
Alternatively column from Day and Night magazine in today's Irish Independent
I’ve just read a book called ‘Gay and Single…Forever’, which stirred a slew of different emotions within me. The first were anger and jealousy directed at its author Steven Bereznai for stealing the title of my yet-to-be-published, multi-part autobiography.
Mainly, I found myself relieved that someone else had articulated my long-held view that, while gay and straight couples are treated differently (mainly by the law), gay and straight single people have always been equally discriminated against or viewed as some kind of problem to fix.
The main crux of this book is that we seem to have moved onto a point where single gay people are feeling the same societal pressure to partner up that straight people have been feeling forever. This pressure appears to stem from a deep unease that exists about singletons – that we must be dysfunctional or failures somehow.
From my viewpoint, there appear to be a helluva lot of single people today – gay and straight - and we can’t all be unlucky-in-love miscreants. We just know the single tag is too precious to give up lightly.
I love being single and I know I’m open to the idea of going out with someone (but not just ‘anyone’). From my experience, it’s been the case that when I’m single for any great length, I want to be with someone, but when I’m with someone, I can’t wait to be single again.
Those feelings can’t just be down to insecurity, low self-esteem or a desire to stay independent – though I do have spectacular amounts of all those very qualities on offer if there are any takers. Like most of my single comrades I’ve discussed this with, I have to believe that once I meet someone that makes me not want to run away, then I’ll know it’s right.
And as a happily partnered-up pal said last week: when it’s right, it’s easy. So remember, when it comes to love, it seems you only get the things you want when you stop wanting what it is you want. Ha ha love: I’m gonna get you, sucka. Wow, and there’s a potential title for the autobiography too.
I’ve just read a book called ‘Gay and Single…Forever’, which stirred a slew of different emotions within me. The first were anger and jealousy directed at its author Steven Bereznai for stealing the title of my yet-to-be-published, multi-part autobiography.
Mainly, I found myself relieved that someone else had articulated my long-held view that, while gay and straight couples are treated differently (mainly by the law), gay and straight single people have always been equally discriminated against or viewed as some kind of problem to fix.
The main crux of this book is that we seem to have moved onto a point where single gay people are feeling the same societal pressure to partner up that straight people have been feeling forever. This pressure appears to stem from a deep unease that exists about singletons – that we must be dysfunctional or failures somehow.
From my viewpoint, there appear to be a helluva lot of single people today – gay and straight - and we can’t all be unlucky-in-love miscreants. We just know the single tag is too precious to give up lightly.
I love being single and I know I’m open to the idea of going out with someone (but not just ‘anyone’). From my experience, it’s been the case that when I’m single for any great length, I want to be with someone, but when I’m with someone, I can’t wait to be single again.
Those feelings can’t just be down to insecurity, low self-esteem or a desire to stay independent – though I do have spectacular amounts of all those very qualities on offer if there are any takers. Like most of my single comrades I’ve discussed this with, I have to believe that once I meet someone that makes me not want to run away, then I’ll know it’s right.
And as a happily partnered-up pal said last week: when it’s right, it’s easy. So remember, when it comes to love, it seems you only get the things you want when you stop wanting what it is you want. Ha ha love: I’m gonna get you, sucka. Wow, and there’s a potential title for the autobiography too.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
From today's Irish Times
On the Road to Kandahar: Travels through Conflict in the Islamic World
Jason Burke
Penguin, £8.99
British journalist Jason Burke is better qualified than most to comment on Islam, having spent 15 years travelling around and reporting from places such as Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan and Morocco. In this enlightening account of those travels, Burke forcefully conveys to us just how incomprehensibly complex and varied the so-called "Islamic World" actually is. Beginning with his own experiences fighting with Kurdish rebels at the end of Desert Storm, right through to 9/11, Afghanistan and, of course, the disastrous invasion of Iraq, Burke analyses the religious, cultural and political histories of various regions of the Middle East and beyond in a clear, thoughtful and, most admirably, respectful manner. Burke's riveting reportage reminds Western readers that this endlessly contradictory "Islamic World" will continue to defy easy categorisation and easy answers. - Declan Cashin
On the Road to Kandahar: Travels through Conflict in the Islamic World
Jason Burke
Penguin, £8.99
British journalist Jason Burke is better qualified than most to comment on Islam, having spent 15 years travelling around and reporting from places such as Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan and Morocco. In this enlightening account of those travels, Burke forcefully conveys to us just how incomprehensibly complex and varied the so-called "Islamic World" actually is. Beginning with his own experiences fighting with Kurdish rebels at the end of Desert Storm, right through to 9/11, Afghanistan and, of course, the disastrous invasion of Iraq, Burke analyses the religious, cultural and political histories of various regions of the Middle East and beyond in a clear, thoughtful and, most admirably, respectful manner. Burke's riveting reportage reminds Western readers that this endlessly contradictory "Islamic World" will continue to defy easy categorisation and easy answers. - Declan Cashin
Friday, May 18, 2007
Treated like royalty
From Day and Night magazine in today's Irish Independent
Now I'm not one to brag [silence descends as a tumbleweed blows by], but sometimes, something so surreal and downright jammy occurs that you just have to boast about it to all and sundry: I got to see Prince. Live. From the VIP section. For Free. Standing opposite Paris Hilton.
How so, you ask? I was in Las Vegas a few weeks ago with three friends, and we had set our hearts on seeing the Artist Formerly Knownas The Artist Formerly Known as Prince (i.e. Prince) live at the Rio casino.
We excitedly turned up on the night with a pretty flexible budget for tickets, only to learn they were $250 each. That was that plan over.
However, twenty minutes before Prince was set to take to the stage, we decided to give it one more shot. Convinced that the bouncer was "of gay flavouring", I was sent to flirt and charm tickets out of him. Needless to say that was a car crash to behold, but it was at that precise moment that we got talking to one of those Americans who profess their love for Irish people in the most passionate of terms.
This lady then introduced us to the group of New York fund accountants she was with — who happened to have four spare passes for the show.The guy with the tickets then just gave them to us, told us to enjoy the show - oh, and that they were for the VIP section next to the stage, with free drink all night.
It was honestly the most random, no-strings-attached, generous good deed I had ever been party to. Before we knew it, we had a glass inhand, Prince was blasting out a cover of Stevie Wonder's Superstition and Paris Hilton was snogging Edie's hot nephew from Desperate Housewives in the section right in front of us.
A friend who has also been to Vegas says such a thing could only happen in Sin City. Amen to that. As for the rest of that trip, I'm afraid I'm going to have to keep shtum. I've already revealed too much. After all, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.
Now I'm not one to brag [silence descends as a tumbleweed blows by], but sometimes, something so surreal and downright jammy occurs that you just have to boast about it to all and sundry: I got to see Prince. Live. From the VIP section. For Free. Standing opposite Paris Hilton.
How so, you ask? I was in Las Vegas a few weeks ago with three friends, and we had set our hearts on seeing the Artist Formerly Knownas The Artist Formerly Known as Prince (i.e. Prince) live at the Rio casino.
We excitedly turned up on the night with a pretty flexible budget for tickets, only to learn they were $250 each. That was that plan over.
However, twenty minutes before Prince was set to take to the stage, we decided to give it one more shot. Convinced that the bouncer was "of gay flavouring", I was sent to flirt and charm tickets out of him. Needless to say that was a car crash to behold, but it was at that precise moment that we got talking to one of those Americans who profess their love for Irish people in the most passionate of terms.
This lady then introduced us to the group of New York fund accountants she was with — who happened to have four spare passes for the show.The guy with the tickets then just gave them to us, told us to enjoy the show - oh, and that they were for the VIP section next to the stage, with free drink all night.
It was honestly the most random, no-strings-attached, generous good deed I had ever been party to. Before we knew it, we had a glass inhand, Prince was blasting out a cover of Stevie Wonder's Superstition and Paris Hilton was snogging Edie's hot nephew from Desperate Housewives in the section right in front of us.
A friend who has also been to Vegas says such a thing could only happen in Sin City. Amen to that. As for the rest of that trip, I'm afraid I'm going to have to keep shtum. I've already revealed too much. After all, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Bertie V Enda
What a damp squib that was. Enda didn't land a killer punch - not even on matters of health and quality of life, which are two disastrous areas for Ahern. Enda never quite focused his arguments or provided clear details about how he will implement policies. Disappointing.
Bertie, of course, had all his statistics at hand, but they were largely impenetrable and off-putting. Worse, he came across as arrogant, sarcastic and cynical, with a nauseating sense of entitlement to the post of Taoiseach. He also seems very surly, no doubt due to the public and media pasting over Bertiegate. Do you really want to be stuck with that sulking for the next 5 years?
We have to 'choose' between these two? I'll leave it to Simon and Garfunkel - master chroniclers of lost idealism and cultural stagnation that they are - to sum up my impression of our two potential Taoisigh:
"...Going to the candidates' debate,
Laugh about it, shout about it,
When you have to choose,
Every way you look at this you lose."
Bertie, of course, had all his statistics at hand, but they were largely impenetrable and off-putting. Worse, he came across as arrogant, sarcastic and cynical, with a nauseating sense of entitlement to the post of Taoiseach. He also seems very surly, no doubt due to the public and media pasting over Bertiegate. Do you really want to be stuck with that sulking for the next 5 years?
We have to 'choose' between these two? I'll leave it to Simon and Garfunkel - master chroniclers of lost idealism and cultural stagnation that they are - to sum up my impression of our two potential Taoisigh:
"...Going to the candidates' debate,
Laugh about it, shout about it,
When you have to choose,
Every way you look at this you lose."
Coalition Twister
Seeing how ambivalent the country seems to be about both putative coalitions on offer in the General Election, and in order to spare us from all the tortured post-election deal negotiations, the Dail parties should instead agree to play a game of Coalition Twister.
Considering there's no real difference between any of the parties - other than personnel - it could be a neat and speedy way to bring about the next Government.
President McAleese, as constitutional guardian, could call out theinstructions and each party could be assigned their own colour: Fianna Fail could be grey and the PDs a slightly lighter shade of grey; Fine Gael could be blue, Labour red, Sinn Fein black (as in sheep) and the Greens, naturally, a turquoise colour.
Following the rules of Twister, the various parties could then contort themselves left and right into whatever position is called for - shouldn't be too much of a stretch for any of them - and whatever colour or combination of colours still standing at the end could form the new Government. It would certainly bring some colour to this election for the first time.
Friday, May 11, 2007
In the case of townie V culchie...
From Day and Night magazine in today's Irish Independent
Ireland may have had its many divisions through the ages, but the great class war was one social conflict that appeared to have bypassed us, even as it swept across other countries such as our closest neighbour across the Irish Sea.
But we can take comfort in the fact that we had our own rather less socialist variant of class war - a conflict that's always been with us and probably always will: that of townie versus culchie.
I guess this divide is not a class struggle per se, but more of a vessel through which Ireland's favourite past-time — slagging — can be channelled.
I should point out that I am indeed a culchie (a ‘riddle inside an enigma inside a country accent’ as I was once described). The way it works, apparently, is that everyone born in Dublin is a townie and everyone born in the 25 other counties of the Republic are culchies, replete with strange, foreign dialects, the likes of which you’d only hear in the far reaches of the Middle East.
However, what Dublin folk often forget is that within the culchie kingdom, the classification system subdivides even more, forging a slew of hyphenated identities. So, for example, in Kilkenny where I am from, I would be considered a culchie-culchie seeing as I was raised in the countryside, whereas my friends who were born in Kilkenny city (and yes, it is a city!) are culchie-townies.
It’s all very complicated and so it can be easy to forget just who you are and where you’re from, which, a lot of the time, is exactly what some people are looking for. Thankfully, the rivalry is largely good-natured – even ironic, as so much is today - and the extremists on both sides who are genuinely vicious to each other are to be pitied more than anything else.
But perhaps the culchie vs townie rivalry persists because we culchies are a threat. We are literally taking over the capital in every walk of life. So with that in mind, all you townies who are so quick to slag should really make the effort to be nice to culchies. Chances are you'll end up working for one someday.
declan.cashin@gmail.com
Ireland may have had its many divisions through the ages, but the great class war was one social conflict that appeared to have bypassed us, even as it swept across other countries such as our closest neighbour across the Irish Sea.
But we can take comfort in the fact that we had our own rather less socialist variant of class war - a conflict that's always been with us and probably always will: that of townie versus culchie.
I guess this divide is not a class struggle per se, but more of a vessel through which Ireland's favourite past-time — slagging — can be channelled.
I should point out that I am indeed a culchie (a ‘riddle inside an enigma inside a country accent’ as I was once described). The way it works, apparently, is that everyone born in Dublin is a townie and everyone born in the 25 other counties of the Republic are culchies, replete with strange, foreign dialects, the likes of which you’d only hear in the far reaches of the Middle East.
However, what Dublin folk often forget is that within the culchie kingdom, the classification system subdivides even more, forging a slew of hyphenated identities. So, for example, in Kilkenny where I am from, I would be considered a culchie-culchie seeing as I was raised in the countryside, whereas my friends who were born in Kilkenny city (and yes, it is a city!) are culchie-townies.
It’s all very complicated and so it can be easy to forget just who you are and where you’re from, which, a lot of the time, is exactly what some people are looking for. Thankfully, the rivalry is largely good-natured – even ironic, as so much is today - and the extremists on both sides who are genuinely vicious to each other are to be pitied more than anything else.
But perhaps the culchie vs townie rivalry persists because we culchies are a threat. We are literally taking over the capital in every walk of life. So with that in mind, all you townies who are so quick to slag should really make the effort to be nice to culchies. Chances are you'll end up working for one someday.
declan.cashin@gmail.com
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Stare Master
From Day and Night magazine in Irish Independent, May 4, 2007
“A poor life this if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare”. Wise words indeed from poet William Henry Davies and it’s certainly the maxim by which I seem to live my life, though perhaps more literally than Davies conceived. Yes folks, I am a compulsive starer.
Now, while it might not be up there with body odour, halitosis or flatulence, my staring problem is still considered a major no-no in some quarters.
I guess it has its origins in my bad eye-sight, which requires that I spend a second longer training my gaze on someone in order to make out who they are. Of course, it's even harder to focus when the object in view is a total stunner.
Like a magpie, I can't seem to fight my attraction to shiny, pretty things, so when an alpha male crosses my path in bars, shops, on public transport and even on the street, I can't help gawking or 'rubber-necking' as a mortified friend of mine likes to call it.
But, thanks to the new The Day After Tomorrow climate that global warming has foisted upon us, Irish weather is picking up earlier every year. This brings with it the saviour for all us incorrigible rubber-neckers – sunglasses.
Your shades now become your mask and, by learning how to subtly move your head without actually turning too much, you’re free to gawp to your hearts content. But it can also be laden with traps and pitfalls, seeing as how everyone looks better in the sunshine, so you must learn to stare critically. It’s a fine art I tell you.
By this point, you probably have me written off as some pale, sweaty guy dressed in a cardigan, who sits in a tree with binoculars all day.
But for those of us who are pathologically incapable of flirting or chatting someone up, being a Stare Master can be our only lifeline when words so often fail. Just make sure that your winning stare is more ‘Come up and see me sometime’ rather than ‘Hello Clarice, have the lambs stopped screaming?’ Because that would be just creepy man.
declan.cashin@gmail.com
“A poor life this if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare”. Wise words indeed from poet William Henry Davies and it’s certainly the maxim by which I seem to live my life, though perhaps more literally than Davies conceived. Yes folks, I am a compulsive starer.
Now, while it might not be up there with body odour, halitosis or flatulence, my staring problem is still considered a major no-no in some quarters.
I guess it has its origins in my bad eye-sight, which requires that I spend a second longer training my gaze on someone in order to make out who they are. Of course, it's even harder to focus when the object in view is a total stunner.
Like a magpie, I can't seem to fight my attraction to shiny, pretty things, so when an alpha male crosses my path in bars, shops, on public transport and even on the street, I can't help gawking or 'rubber-necking' as a mortified friend of mine likes to call it.
But, thanks to the new The Day After Tomorrow climate that global warming has foisted upon us, Irish weather is picking up earlier every year. This brings with it the saviour for all us incorrigible rubber-neckers – sunglasses.
Your shades now become your mask and, by learning how to subtly move your head without actually turning too much, you’re free to gawp to your hearts content. But it can also be laden with traps and pitfalls, seeing as how everyone looks better in the sunshine, so you must learn to stare critically. It’s a fine art I tell you.
By this point, you probably have me written off as some pale, sweaty guy dressed in a cardigan, who sits in a tree with binoculars all day.
But for those of us who are pathologically incapable of flirting or chatting someone up, being a Stare Master can be our only lifeline when words so often fail. Just make sure that your winning stare is more ‘Come up and see me sometime’ rather than ‘Hello Clarice, have the lambs stopped screaming?’ Because that would be just creepy man.
declan.cashin@gmail.com
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