As One Does

OK, I just got off the phone with my dad. He just got back from Australia, where he goes twice a year. He is not exactly communicative: it's meant to be parents who have to squeeze information out of their children, not the other way round.

Our conversation commenced with a fairly typical exchange along the lines of me asking him if he'd had a nice time on his trip, him replying that he doesn't go to Australia to have a nice time, and me asking if he had managed to have a nice time anyway.

We then progressed onto confirming that we were both well, and moved rapidly through a short selection of standard topics: work, the tax rate on my case competition prize money, Jonny Wilkinson's career, and Palace's uncertain future in the Premiership.

All that took about seven minutes, at which point dad started saying repeatedly (although denying indignantly that he had jet lag) that he was going to bed.

As I have not spoken to my father since Christmas however, I was not about to give up so easily.

"So, dad, did you fly Qantas?"

"Cathay Pacific"

"First class?"

"Business class."

"Your OneWord Alliance Emerald-Platinum-Exclusive cardholder status didn't work for an upgrade this time?"

"Not this time."

[Pause]

"But I got an upgrade last time. Yes, I sat next to a very pleasant young lady on that trip."

"You did?" [at this point I am a circling fish, scenting bait and knowing it is bait but nonetheless desperately wanting it]

"Yes, we shared a bottle of shampoo." (I assume this means champagne)

"Dad! Frolicking in the first class cabin with a young lady!"

"I wasn't frolicking. We had a nice chat for about an hour out of Hong Kong."

"All right Dad, tell me who it was."

"I pretended I didn't have the faintest idea who she was, of course."

"DAD!!!!"

"Nicole Kidman."


* * *

I must say, even I was impressed at this point. Dad has a track record of bumping into famous people in airplane cabins and hotel lifts, engaging them over conversation, and then not mentioning it for months, or even years: past scalps he has confessed to have included the Sultan of Brunei, Kojak, Stefanie Powers and Rumpole of the Bailey. Whereas my entire haul of celebrity travel encounters is as follows:
1) sitting behind Jools Holland, going London to Paris, and,
2) checking in behind Gary Barlow at Venice airport, then accidentally being mistaken for his PA at Frankfurt airport, and being rushed (with GB) in a limo from a Lufhansa plane to a BA one which was being held on the ground for him.

But right now, I had some important questions for my father.

* * *

"Dad. So you are saying you sat next to Nicole Kidman on the plane and talked to her for an hour?"

"Yup".

"What was she like?"

"Very normal."

"Did you see her eating?

"She picked. And we had a couple of glasses of shampoo each."

"What did you talk about? (Tom Cruise? Steve Bing? Her stalker?)"

"Business."

"What sort of business?!"

"She asked me what I was doing in Australia. So I said."

"So, you talked about diamond merchanting for an hour and never once got onto the subject of who in Hollywood is a real bitch, or what's Jude Law like, or is Tom Cruise really gay?"

"Yup. I'm going to bed now."

As one does.