Christopher Gray is puzzled by a student's request
Walking home with Rosemarie last Wednesday after the first night of Evita, I was surprised when a young man broke off from a group of high-spirited students and ran across George Street to ask if he could kiss me.
“Do not be absurd,” I replied huffily, striding onwards. But the lad would not be put off so easily. “Go on. Just a peck on the cheek,” he persisted.
I remained resolute in my refusal, however. After further efforts at persuasion — with me feeling like some sixties’ US prom queen unwilling to ‘put out’ for fear of damage to her ‘rep’ — my admirer was pulled away by one of his mates. He called him “Baby George”.
I mentioned this curious episode to one of the student barmen in my local a few days later. He said this had almost certainly been some sort of undergraduate challenge — kiss a bearded wrinkly, perhaps — with the outcome of the encounter destined to be recorded on a mobile.
And there was me thinking it had been down to my magnetic appeal.
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