“You know what I wanted, to be Burt Reynolds. I remember he asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, flirting mischievously. “Don’t be shy, I will bite.” Darling, don’t worry, they know me here.
He laughed a wide-toothed self-conscious laugh. “Darling, don’t worry, they know me here,” he said. Being young and naive, I checked it was OK for me to leave the vodka bottle with him. I brought him a bottle of vodka over, poured it, and he took the bottle and kept it on the bar. He was polite and seemed to take a generous interest in me. He took off his cap and placed it on the bar. It struck me how odd it was that he had spent his entire life wanting to be famous and well known and now, having such enormous success, wanting to be unrecognised. Robert encouraged me to chat with him, abandoning me with this world-famous rock star. The clone look of the moustache, the leather Muir cap and jacket, added to him looking nondescript. I remember how friendly he was, there was a sweetness about him. It was early on in the evening when Freddie sat on a stool and began chatting to me. One night he introduced me to Freddie Mercury. One of the guys I worked with was called Robert and he knew everyone. To the right of the main room was a dark area of passageways and corners, where people had sex in the half light. The bar was a small main room, with a chill-out area upstairs.
