Look!" excalimed Louise.
"What?" I asked.
"Look! Over there."
"Where?"
"There! In the corner ..."
A few months ago, my English cousin, Louise, and I were in Chiang Rai, a little
Thai restaurant in the middle of Manchester.
The food was delicious - lots of fresh fish and chillies, which I love.
The owners were from Thailand, but they had immigrated to England from the city
of Chiang Rai, in the north of Thailand, almost thirty years ago.
Our waitress was their daughter.
She was born in Manchester and she spoke English with a very strong Manchester
accent.
We were waiting for our meal, when suddenly, Louise started shaking my arm in
her excitement.
"It's him!
It's him!
I'm sure it is!" she exclaimed.
"Who?"
"Him!!"
She was pointing to a man in his mid-twenties, sitting at a table in the corner
of the restaurant.
He had short, blond hair and was quite tanned.
He was also good-looking, I suppose.
There was a woman with him, sitting with her back to us.
Louise realised that I didn't understand what she was talking about and took a
deep breath.
"It's David Beckham!"
"Ah, OK.
I know who David Beckham is," I said.
"He plays for Manchester United Football Club."
What I didn't understand was how Louise knew who he was.
She doesn't especially like football and she definitely doesn't understand it.
I remember the only time I persuaded her to go to a match with me, it was a
total disaster.
We were at the Old Trafford stadium, Manchester United's football ground,
watching United play Arsenal, a London team.
We were supposed to be supporting United (they're my favorite English football
team), but the problem was that Louise didn't care who was winning.
Every time either team scored or came close to scoring she jumped up and
cheered, which didn't make the United fans around us very happy.
I tried to explain the rules to her and the fact that she should only cheer for
one team, but she told me that it was much fairer if she encouraged both sides.
Eventually, I pretended that I didn't know her until we had left the stadium.
"Louise, how do you know who David Beckham is?" I asked.
"Everyone knows who he is.
He's married to Victoria Adams from the Spice Girls, the one they call Posh
Spice.
I can't see her face, but the woman with him must be Victoria.
I'm going to ask them for their autographs."
"Louise, you can't do that!
It's embarrassing ... and they're having dinner."
"Rubbish!" she said, taking my drink mat from under my drink and
getting a pen out of her handbag.
"They're famous and that gives everyone the right to ask them for their
autograph."
"But ..."
That's another thing about the British.
A famous person is automatically public property.
The members of the British Royal Family can't go anywhere without being
followed by a photographer from one of the [1]tabloid newspapers.
The rules are the same for pop stars, actors and football players, especially
football players who are married to pop stars.
I sat and ate my fish and tried to become invisible.
A few minutes later, Louise returned triumphant.
"I told them that the autograph was for my foreign cousin who is here on
holiday.
I told them that you don't speak English, so please wave to them and smile to
say thank you!"
I'm very fond of Louise, but sometimes, I could kill her!
Summary:
In this part
of the chapter, Antonio and Louisse, his English cousin, are in a restaurant in the middle of Manchester.
There, they saw to David Beckham with his wife and his cousin asked them
their autograph. Also, he tell us what it happened when he and his cousin
were to see a Manchester United match.
|
[1] tabloid newspapers= sensationalist newspapers which
publish a lot of stories, with photographs, about the private lives of the rich
and famous
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