O.M.G. ..............
Aug 15, 2009 15:23:50 GMT
Post by GreenEyesToo on Aug 15, 2009 15:23:50 GMT
Please forgive my immodesty, but even though I say it myself, I may have surpassed all previous efforts this time.
In a desperate hunt for new stuff to post, I've been googling "Rufus Sewell + ....." various people/places he's been associated with, and came across this little gem, in a blog about football (of all things!) by a childhood friend of his.
Take a deep breath...
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(large version here: 1.bp.blogspot.com/_BjTqPBXy1hk/RuKR_R9jBvI/AAAAAAAAAPs/dRgLQ2PKQJo/s1600-h/DSCF0966.JPG)
The caption reads: Caspar (front) and Rufus in their granny's MG outside the house in Westbank Terrace, Hampton Hill; Swipe, as ever, is propping up the rear.
The accompanying post talks of the boys and their Dad. Excerpts:
We'd visit Bill at his studio-cum-home which was in a mews just off Wardour Street in Soho. The three of us; Caspar, Rufus and me. Bill was a very laid-back figure, quite unlike the other Dads you'd come across.
.....
Bill had hit upon a tremendously cunning means of keeping these three demanding kids out of his hair when they came to stay. "Here's a fiver, now bugger off to McDonalds", he'd rasp in smokey Australian. And so we would.
.....
I came across an interview with Rufus when I was trying to get my dates straight. His remarks about his slightly at arm's length, every-other-weekend relationship with his father are pretty perceptive:
"It gave me this really bizarre idea of what makes someone cool, not really trying, but always having the potential to be fantastic."
That catches Bill pretty well, I think; he had that and his two sons have both inherited it from their dad, for sure; the potential to be fantastic.
.....
And now I see us clearly, Caspar, Rufus, me; scurrying and larking as we hoof a ball about on a park in Hampton Hill.
Then if that wasn't me making me shake enough, I scrolled further on down and found this (another deep breath now):
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(large version here: 4.bp.blogspot.com/_BjTqPBXy1hk/Rt6-RB9jBoI/AAAAAAAAAO0/tEmOB2ukBaM/s1600-h/DSCF0938.JPG)
It's Sunday, June 23rd and Poland are playing Italy in the 1974 World Cup. Or it might be the Saturday before that, when they beat Argentina 3-2. Or maybe it's the day before the Final itself, when they played and beat Brazil.
.....
You see, on the day I'm trying to recall, there was a quite well known actor at the window behind me, giving me the two fingered salute and burping the word "bollocks" whilst I tried to watch the game. And you don't tend to forget stuff like that, do you? Even if the world cup games played long ago begin to bleed into one, you don't forget Rufus Sewell, burping bollocks, two grubby fingers raised, then mouthing "f**k off" while you try to watch the game.
.....
He was only six at the time, of course, and taking a break from playing kiss chase with my sister. Not yet famous, no starring roles beyond his turn as Rumplestiltskin at Trafalgar Infants School. Maybe that was a little later, the following year, perhaps? But there is no doubting that he was already a prodigious talent. I couldn't even burp to order, let alone form a coarse vocabulary in that beguiling foreign tongue, yet here he was, already swearing in it fluently. In fact, the infants' production of Rumpelstiltskin would enjoy such a dazzlingly brilliant run, be so acclaimed that they'd eventually transfer it to the main school, with its larger assembly hall for a special one-off performance. So we juniors all got to enjoy Rufus stomping around, shouting a lot and generally stealing the show in the title role, being excellent as that funny little goblin child-man in a performance all of our own and absolutely free.
I've not seen Rufus for a while now. I think he's had some tough times - the usual life stuff - as well as some wonderful successes - most recently in Tom Stoppard's play set in the Prague of 1968, called Rock 'n' Roll. I didn't get to see it - should be more assertive about using contacts, going through the door when it's being held open for you, I suppose - but it's never felt quite right. I've heard that he was very good and still oozes power and charisma on the stage. I'd be lying if I said I didn't envy him a little his having met some of my own personal heroes; Bowie, Lieber & Stoller, Peter Cook and Jack Lemmon are the ones that spring most readily to mind. But I don't envy him his success, because that's precisely what it is; his. I still feel a gentle glow of pride, every now and then, that he was one of us and now holds his own with all of 'them'.
The full blog is here (scroll down to just past halfway, then down a bit more for the second part): jcrawfordsnagge.blogspot.com/2007_09_01_archive.html
(Since this is already in the public domain, I hope nobody is unhappy about these otherwise private pics being posted. I just couldn't let them go unseen by us!!)
In a desperate hunt for new stuff to post, I've been googling "Rufus Sewell + ....." various people/places he's been associated with, and came across this little gem, in a blog about football (of all things!) by a childhood friend of his.
Take a deep breath...
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
(large version here: 1.bp.blogspot.com/_BjTqPBXy1hk/RuKR_R9jBvI/AAAAAAAAAPs/dRgLQ2PKQJo/s1600-h/DSCF0966.JPG)
The caption reads: Caspar (front) and Rufus in their granny's MG outside the house in Westbank Terrace, Hampton Hill; Swipe, as ever, is propping up the rear.
The accompanying post talks of the boys and their Dad. Excerpts:
We'd visit Bill at his studio-cum-home which was in a mews just off Wardour Street in Soho. The three of us; Caspar, Rufus and me. Bill was a very laid-back figure, quite unlike the other Dads you'd come across.
.....
Bill had hit upon a tremendously cunning means of keeping these three demanding kids out of his hair when they came to stay. "Here's a fiver, now bugger off to McDonalds", he'd rasp in smokey Australian. And so we would.
.....
I came across an interview with Rufus when I was trying to get my dates straight. His remarks about his slightly at arm's length, every-other-weekend relationship with his father are pretty perceptive:
"It gave me this really bizarre idea of what makes someone cool, not really trying, but always having the potential to be fantastic."
That catches Bill pretty well, I think; he had that and his two sons have both inherited it from their dad, for sure; the potential to be fantastic.
.....
And now I see us clearly, Caspar, Rufus, me; scurrying and larking as we hoof a ball about on a park in Hampton Hill.
Then if that wasn't me making me shake enough, I scrolled further on down and found this (another deep breath now):
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
(large version here: 4.bp.blogspot.com/_BjTqPBXy1hk/Rt6-RB9jBoI/AAAAAAAAAO0/tEmOB2ukBaM/s1600-h/DSCF0938.JPG)
It's Sunday, June 23rd and Poland are playing Italy in the 1974 World Cup. Or it might be the Saturday before that, when they beat Argentina 3-2. Or maybe it's the day before the Final itself, when they played and beat Brazil.
.....
You see, on the day I'm trying to recall, there was a quite well known actor at the window behind me, giving me the two fingered salute and burping the word "bollocks" whilst I tried to watch the game. And you don't tend to forget stuff like that, do you? Even if the world cup games played long ago begin to bleed into one, you don't forget Rufus Sewell, burping bollocks, two grubby fingers raised, then mouthing "f**k off" while you try to watch the game.
.....
He was only six at the time, of course, and taking a break from playing kiss chase with my sister. Not yet famous, no starring roles beyond his turn as Rumplestiltskin at Trafalgar Infants School. Maybe that was a little later, the following year, perhaps? But there is no doubting that he was already a prodigious talent. I couldn't even burp to order, let alone form a coarse vocabulary in that beguiling foreign tongue, yet here he was, already swearing in it fluently. In fact, the infants' production of Rumpelstiltskin would enjoy such a dazzlingly brilliant run, be so acclaimed that they'd eventually transfer it to the main school, with its larger assembly hall for a special one-off performance. So we juniors all got to enjoy Rufus stomping around, shouting a lot and generally stealing the show in the title role, being excellent as that funny little goblin child-man in a performance all of our own and absolutely free.
I've not seen Rufus for a while now. I think he's had some tough times - the usual life stuff - as well as some wonderful successes - most recently in Tom Stoppard's play set in the Prague of 1968, called Rock 'n' Roll. I didn't get to see it - should be more assertive about using contacts, going through the door when it's being held open for you, I suppose - but it's never felt quite right. I've heard that he was very good and still oozes power and charisma on the stage. I'd be lying if I said I didn't envy him a little his having met some of my own personal heroes; Bowie, Lieber & Stoller, Peter Cook and Jack Lemmon are the ones that spring most readily to mind. But I don't envy him his success, because that's precisely what it is; his. I still feel a gentle glow of pride, every now and then, that he was one of us and now holds his own with all of 'them'.
The full blog is here (scroll down to just past halfway, then down a bit more for the second part): jcrawfordsnagge.blogspot.com/2007_09_01_archive.html
(Since this is already in the public domain, I hope nobody is unhappy about these otherwise private pics being posted. I just couldn't let them go unseen by us!!)