Celebrity Spotting II

Forgive me for my absence from the blog. I’ve been on a blogaday . . . that’s a ‘blog holiday!’ But, baby I’m back!

So, where was I? Right, celebrity spotting at Matarangi.

WELL, so, if you’ll remember waaaaay back to Christmas and my spotting of Phil Keogan, the host of The Amazing Race . . . . The very next day I saw him again. And, if I was one to be prone to paranoid delusions of being stalked, I may have thought he was following me!

The next morning after having dinner with Phil (delusional, huh, what?), Rod and I set out for the big city of Whitianga for holiday supplies (okay, it’s a small village, but it has a supermarket).

We met some friends at our favourite café. There I was, in mid-bite of my eggs Benedict when who walks into the café? PHIL!

He’s unshaven, baseball cap backwards, an old t-shirt and jeans. He’s carrying a paper sack from the pharmacy next door (which was in a suspicious shape of L’Oreal hair dye) and gets in the queue (in line, you Americans) to order a coffee. There are about four people in front of him, as it’s just about morning tea time (10am, Americans).

Still with my mouth open, fork poised, I grunt at Rod and make googly eyes, urging him to look over toward the counter. He does. I SWEAR we are the only people in the restaurant looking at Phil! Remember, in my last spotting how no one in the restaurant even glanced his way? Where am I living, people?

That’s it, I say to myself. I stand up without even thinking and yell out in the middle of the packed restaurant, “What is wrong with you people? Can’t you see there is a celebrity in our midst?! Does this Tall Poppy Syndrome make you blind?!”

Okay, no, I didn’t really do that. But, I wanted to!

The funny thing is our friends who were having brekky with us (breakfast, my American friends) don’t own a TV. So, there we are gob-smacked and trying to explain to our friends what an amazing (get it . . Amazing Race . . .) international celebrity this guy is. They just aren’t getting it and lapse back into whatever conversation we were having.

Meanwhile, I’m tuned out and watching Phil as he orders his coffee, pays with some cash out of a worn wallet, waits a few minutes for his takeaway cup and casually leaves the premises.

I think he may have glanced my direction on his way out, but I’m not sure. Perhaps he felt me staring uncontrollably at his form? I’ll never know.

I spotted Phil again last Tuesday night . . . .oh, yeah . . . that’s on this season of The Amazing Race. His hair looks somewhat of a different colour. Must be the new shade he picked up at the local chemist over Christmas holidays.

Heather

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