Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ

There was an article in the Sunday Times today devoted to actor Dominic West. In fact, he was the cover of the magazine. Topless and broody. I stared. But not too much. I learned my lesson over twenty years ago. A painful memory of a stare that went on too long in the Coffee Inn, just off Grafton Street, Dublin. It's circa 1988. Way before the Celtic Tiger and the Cappucino Culture, the Coffee Inn did egg and chips and a milky coffee and between it, and nearby Bewleys, was really the only place to get a coffee. I was in there with my friends, fellow Trinity College Dublin undergraduates, when in walks the coolest guy on campus with a gorgeous female companion, Dominic West. Even at 19/20 he had an air of cool and an hauteur which Eton and good looks gave him. Everyone knew him. He was studying English Literature. So was I, but he was a few years behind.

As he took up position in the booth opposite us, I don't know what happened to me. I stared, not a glance and then away, but an unable to peel my eyes away kind of stare, an "OMG, Dominic West is at the other table, is he having egg & chips or maybe the legendary Coffee Inn spaghetti bolognaise"? Well, whatever I was doing, the staring annoyed him, so much so, he got the girl he was with to swap places with him. I only blinked and the next thing she's facing me, As my fried egg congealed on my plate, I stared at the back of his head and died a death inside. I haven't been able to watch "The Wire". Friends tell me it's brilliant. I just remember the Coffee Inn.Μύ