I dreamed I saw Margaret Atwood tucking into a panini on Avenue Mont-Royal, at a sidewalk terrace. She was alone and I resolved to pass without looking at her. It was probably the first panini in decades she'd managed to eat alone in public. It was imperative I look away and keep my mouth shut. I could write a book on what I might say to Margaret Atwood, something like "Dear Bruce Springsteen" only more like "Dear Stately Auk Who Escaped the Great Extinction." I managed to pass by but could not help sidling behind the first lamp post to watch her eat. Unobtrusively, I thought, but she was onto me. "Do you really," she said, "have to do that?"
On October 10th, 2013 04:12 pm (UTC), (Anonymous) commented:
I could listen to that woman talk, forever. She is so clever and funny.
And isn't it interesting how most Canadians won't (or didn't used to; maybe things have changed) swarm celebrities?
I was in a public place where Joni Mitchell fans from all over the world hoped to catch a glimpse of her, and when a car pulled up and she began to get out of it, most of the group literally swarmed the poor woman, like a ravenous horde.
I couldn't do it. Not that I didn't want to meet her, but ... not like that.