Woody Har­rel­son out and about for a stroll - surely I’m dream­ing?

Bray People - - NEWS -

MY oth­er­wise bor­ing life took an un­ex­pected turn last Satur­day night when I bumped into a Hol­ly­wood legend. I dis­solve into a gib­ber­ing wreck when I am any­where near any­body re­motely fa­mous.

I am a Groupie. Al­ways have been. I have been a source of great em­bar­rass­ment to my friends and fam­ily for many years now and am the butt of a lot of jokes. But I can’t help it. As soon as I see any­one vaguely fa­mous, I get all stupid and giddy.

So you can imag­ine my re­ac­tion when walk­ing along the street last Satur­day who did I spot only Woody Har­rel­son. WOODY FECKIN HAR­REL­SON! I’m not the bet­ter of it I can tell you! We were in town with the kids, en­joy­ing our lo­cal Christ­mas fes­ti­val when I saw il­lu­sion­ist Keith Barry who was per­form­ing a stunt that night.

Now tech­ni­cally Keith is fa­mous but he is prob­a­bly one of the few ex­cep­tions to my celebrity re­ac­tion be­cause I’ve in­ter­viewed him so many times, I feel like I know him. I was ac­tu­ally ad­mir­ing Keith’s coat when I spot­ted Woody.

I pulled Him­self by the back of his jacket, ‘Is...is that.. Ww­woooody Har­rel­son?’ I asked in­cred­u­lously. Him­self told me not to be stupid but then did a dou­ble take.

‘Je­sus I think you’re right!’ he said.

Mean­while the Youngest was pulling on my hand im­pa­tiently. ‘Mum, mum the Fer­ris Wheel!’

‘Will you shush about the Fer­ris Wheel! That’s Woody Har­rel­son!’ I ex­claimed. She’s nine. She hasn’t watched True De­tec­tive or Cheers or White Men Can’t Jump. She was to­tally unim­pressed. I could see Him­self and the El­dest eye­ing me war­ily, silently pray­ing I wouldn’t make a show of them. As if ?!

I barged my way over to where three big burly bounc­ers were stand­ing in front of Woody and Keith. ‘ That’s Woody Har­rel­son!’ I in­formed them.‘Eh, yeah we know,’ said one of them drily.

‘OMG I can’t be­lieve it! My heart is pound­ing’ I said grab­bing one fella’s hand and putting it to my chest. He looked un­cer­tainly at his col­leagues. ‘Can you ask him if I can have my pic­ture taken with him?’ I pleaded. ‘We can’t. He’s try­ing to keep a low pro­file un­til later,’ they said. ‘Ah pleeeeease!” I begged. ‘Come on now, move along,’ one of them said firmly, nudg­ing me out of the way.

Him­self re­luc­tantly claimed me, grab­bing me by the arm and haul­ing me along.

‘Come on, they’re not go­ing to let you near him, you’re wast­ing your time,’ he ad­vised. ‘Wooooooooody!” I shrieked as Him­self dragged me away. Woody looked over for a split sec­ond be­fore look­ing quickly away.

‘Je­sus Christ some­times I won­der what I did to de­serve you,’ mut­tered Him­self.

I’m still not right!


Jus­tine ny o h a M ’ O

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