I'm sitting at the British Air Lounge at Heathrow and my dear friend Eric Clapton saunters over and sits down. He asked that I take a furtive, grainy photograph in order to capture the essence of the moment.
Of course I ran over and gushed like a school girl at a Justin Bieber concert. I told him about the Clapton shrine I keep in my closet where I worship him and sacrifice Bieberrecords tapes dvds mp3s upon the alter of Clapton.
And of course we reminisced about stalking the bones on the flats of Andros.
Or not.
Good entertainment whilst waiting for the flight to Mumbai. Gary took a better photo (two middle aged guys taking clandestine photos of a rock icon. How lame is that?) I'll post that later.
Of course I ran over and gushed like a school girl at a Justin Bieber concert. I told him about the Clapton shrine I keep in my closet where I worship him and sacrifice Bieber
And of course we reminisced about stalking the bones on the flats of Andros.
Or not.
Good entertainment whilst waiting for the flight to Mumbai. Gary took a better photo (two middle aged guys taking clandestine photos of a rock icon. How lame is that?) I'll post that later.
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| My leg and Eric Clapton. |
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