Better than a blue plaque? In which our anti-hero almost celeb-stalks
On my way back from dinner at the wonderful L'Autre on Saturday I was (sh)ambling down Shepherd Street. As is my habit, I was looking up at various bits of architecture, when I noticed a modern-looking house all finished in very sober black.
Looked up and instantly realised it was the home of Sir Stirling Moss -- on the balcony on one of his first-floor windows is a stylised design of a racing car (probably a 1959/60 Cooper), bearing the number 7, and driven by a guy in a Herbert Johnson polo helmet ;) One of those lovely little pieces of iconography -- anyone to whom the symbols meant anything would instantly know whose home they were looking at (his "high-tech Mayfair home" is somewhat legendary in racing circles, but I thought it'd be somewhere bigger and much grander!); anyone else would just think "a racing fan lives here"!
I knew the Young Maestro lived in that part of London, and I know he's still in the phone book; didn't think he'd draw attention to himself in that sort of way though.
(He wasn't in, I assume he was off at Goodwood for the Revival; I'd had just enough booze that I might've just knocked on the door if there'd been lights on.... ;) "Oi, Lady Susie, is your Stirling coming out for a pint? G'waaaan! Let him!"
Looked up and instantly realised it was the home of Sir Stirling Moss -- on the balcony on one of his first-floor windows is a stylised design of a racing car (probably a 1959/60 Cooper), bearing the number 7, and driven by a guy in a Herbert Johnson polo helmet ;) One of those lovely little pieces of iconography -- anyone to whom the symbols meant anything would instantly know whose home they were looking at (his "high-tech Mayfair home" is somewhat legendary in racing circles, but I thought it'd be somewhere bigger and much grander!); anyone else would just think "a racing fan lives here"!
I knew the Young Maestro lived in that part of London, and I know he's still in the phone book; didn't think he'd draw attention to himself in that sort of way though.
(He wasn't in, I assume he was off at Goodwood for the Revival; I'd had just enough booze that I might've just knocked on the door if there'd been lights on.... ;) "Oi, Lady Susie, is your Stirling coming out for a pint? G'waaaan! Let him!"