Romero

Walking down the pavement with my head in a book, a man kisses his painted fingernails as I pass.  'You look very elegant', he says in what sounds like a Spanish accent, and he mimics my concentrated expression.  On his head, a cloche hat made of felt sits at a jaunty angle.  He is wearing a mustard shirt with matching tie and waistcoat.  His face is tanned with a layer of foundation, eye-make-up and lipstick (slightly smudged).  He is seated at a table outside a pub with a pint of beer and two roses on the bench next to him.  He is probably about sixty.

I decide to ask my question.  He looks suspicious.  'What's your name?' he asks.  I tell him.  'Sit down, Richard', he says, gesturing to the seat opposite him.  I do.  'We must speak quietly', he says, leaning in.  A younger man approaches to ask us directions to a different pub.  'Excuse me', he says.  'You're excused', says my painted gentleman, 'Go away'.  He looks back to me, 'You've got to laugh, Richard', he says.  I agree. 

He tells me that he is a 'theatre and film-maker extra-ordinaire'.  He taps my arm.  I say I will Google him when I get home.  He looks confused.  I explain that I will look him up on the internet.  'Do, Richard, do', he says enthusiastically.  I repeat my question.  He pauses for effect and taps his nose.  'What do you pay?'  I tell him that it is not usually a monetary exchange.  'A phone number?' he suggests.  I say that I think a phone number is perhaps too high currency for a middle name.  He leans closer to me and whispers an answer.  'It means rosemary', he says.

I thank him and explain that I am late for a teaching appointment and need to be on my way.  'I'm a professor but I don't like teaching', he says.  I collect my bag and stand up to leave.  'You look lovely', he says.  'Thank you', I reply.  He waves as I continue down the pavement.

(At home, I make good on my promise to Google him and, whilst his extra-ordinary talents are not splattered all over the internet, he did direct a film of 'Hamlet' in 1976 with Helen Mirren as Ophelia and Gertrude and Quentin Crisp as Polonius.  The nunnery scene is particularly fine.)