'Loose Talk'
By Benjamin Benedict

Being There But Not

Two brothers with a house not far from Monte Carlo were lucky enough to know someone with an apartment, which overlooked the route of the Grand Prix, and along with other friends of his they were afforded a grandstand view of the race. Sadly, after some years the apartment was sold and come the day of the Grand Prix, they had nowhere to go. They took themselves into town and tried to find a spot where they could see the action, but the best they could come up with was a café with a television set, so close to the race that they could actually hear the screaming F1 engines, but only see the cars on TV.

That is something like going to a baseball or football game with a hand sized TV so that you can watch the replays, or maybe check out the other games being played.

Some people think that in fact it is better to see such events on a TV, rather than in the flesh. Their argument is that you can actually see more than you do by being there. Digital viewing and satellite dishes have strengthened this argument, but against it is the sensation you get by being part of the action.

Now, I am British but not in Britain so I have this dish, which offers me the godlike proposition of being there but not. This spring, I have seen The Boat Race, The Grand National, The Derby, Ascot Week, The Chelsea Flower Show, Crufts, The FA Cup, Trouping The Colour, Glastonbury Festival, The Royal Academy Exhibition and now Wimbledon, and after that The Proms. Now if it’s not your patch you might not know what some of these events are, but just lets say that they are all more than just ‘events’ they are part of the National fabric. Glastonbury is the new kid on the block. While there are many other major music festivals, Glastonbury’s five days have turned into a British Institution.

I must admit to a feeling of national pride when I contemplate these celebrations, but it is mixed with the sneaking suspicion that I personally would rather not be there, would rather not be getting to and from, in any kind of weather, in the pushing and shoving, lack of leg room, bad view, strawberries and cream down my shirt, up to my ankles in mud kind of environment.

I am up on Olympus looking down on the mere mortals below, and it’s not just Britain, the World is my oyster. But there’s no time for any of that now. There’s a warm sea and a sandy beach. There’s the local wine, which blends so flawlessly with the smell of the pines and the sound of the doves which nest in them. Being there but not will have to wait for a while.   

 

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