I enjoyed reading this over on Rhodri's blog today.
So I shared with you my surprise at winning this poetry competition and the plot thickens as I receive an email on Friday ordering me to the Library so that I can have my photo taken for the website and maybe even local press!
So, up I go to the University library at the top of the hill. I dropped Sibyl off at her first exam and made my way there. I’d been instructed to ask at the front desk and that I would be taken from there. I imagined that perhaps they’d take me into a small room and ask me to do all sorts of interesting academic poses. I’d also had the night before considering that all important question; ‘to beard or not to beard’. I decided against the clean shave as I definitely wanted to stick with the learned look.
I got to the front desk and spoke to a little lady who looked a bit like a hungry hedgehog. She didn’t have a clue what I was on about and walked around asking all the staff what it was that I could possibly be going on about. Eventually she got back to me and referred me to Susan who’s got a really nice camera and she’d deal with me. Surely Susan was Aberystwyth’s very own Annie Leibovitz.
“Hi apparently I’m meant to come to you because I’m errm, I’m meant to have my photo taken cos errm cos I won a competition? Yeah errm, I won this poetry art competition thing.” I mumbled.
“Right! Sure, okay Mr!” She replied enthusiastically. I assumed this was the moment she’d lead me to the brightly lit photo room. I followed her out of the office and she led me to probably the widest open space in the entire library, right next to the entrance and where they keep the newspapers.
“So, errm you want me to errm, just sort of sit here? Like errm, next to this table?”
“Yes.”
“Okay… Well, what sort of pose do you want? You know I’m used to having my photo taken, the paparazzi are always after me.”
“Really?”
I realised we had a gullible lack of a sense of humour on our hands.
“We’ll try a few.”
“Shall I try my serious face?”
“Yes go on.”
I put on my most academically studious expression.
“Actually that’s a bit frightening.”
“Oh. Well, errm, shall I look out the window? Or shall I put my hand on my chin?”
“Try smiling!”
“Oh. How about I read this book!”
“You’re going to need to look up.”
“Sorry.”
“You will be!”
“Okay. Can I go now?”
“One more, give us a smile now eh?”
I smiled widely desperately hoping there was nothing stuck in my teeth, or any bogies protruding from my nose.
“Alright thanks!”
I was delighted it was over, quite frankly. I don’t think I’m cut out for this whole celebrity thing. It’s too stressful and there’s too much expected from us A-listers. I won’t sleep at night.
I’ll keep you posted on my competition process.
So, up I go to the University library at the top of the hill. I dropped Sibyl off at her first exam and made my way there. I’d been instructed to ask at the front desk and that I would be taken from there. I imagined that perhaps they’d take me into a small room and ask me to do all sorts of interesting academic poses. I’d also had the night before considering that all important question; ‘to beard or not to beard’. I decided against the clean shave as I definitely wanted to stick with the learned look.
I got to the front desk and spoke to a little lady who looked a bit like a hungry hedgehog. She didn’t have a clue what I was on about and walked around asking all the staff what it was that I could possibly be going on about. Eventually she got back to me and referred me to Susan who’s got a really nice camera and she’d deal with me. Surely Susan was Aberystwyth’s very own Annie Leibovitz.
“Hi apparently I’m meant to come to you because I’m errm, I’m meant to have my photo taken cos errm cos I won a competition? Yeah errm, I won this poetry art competition thing.” I mumbled.
“Right! Sure, okay Mr!” She replied enthusiastically. I assumed this was the moment she’d lead me to the brightly lit photo room. I followed her out of the office and she led me to probably the widest open space in the entire library, right next to the entrance and where they keep the newspapers.
“So, errm you want me to errm, just sort of sit here? Like errm, next to this table?”
“Yes.”
“Okay… Well, what sort of pose do you want? You know I’m used to having my photo taken, the paparazzi are always after me.”
“Really?”
I realised we had a gullible lack of a sense of humour on our hands.
“We’ll try a few.”
“Shall I try my serious face?”
“Yes go on.”
I put on my most academically studious expression.
“Actually that’s a bit frightening.”
“Oh. Well, errm, shall I look out the window? Or shall I put my hand on my chin?”
“Try smiling!”
“Oh. How about I read this book!”
“You’re going to need to look up.”
“Sorry.”
“You will be!”
“Okay. Can I go now?”
“One more, give us a smile now eh?”
I smiled widely desperately hoping there was nothing stuck in my teeth, or any bogies protruding from my nose.
“Alright thanks!”
I was delighted it was over, quite frankly. I don’t think I’m cut out for this whole celebrity thing. It’s too stressful and there’s too much expected from us A-listers. I won’t sleep at night.
I’ll keep you posted on my competition process.
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