As the Roger Whittaker interview the other week revealed, it’s not just us nobodies who are starstruck. For most stars there is always another star that they would like to meet, or are proud to have met.
Then there are the taxidrivers. They are always meeting famous people, but I’m not sure whether they manage to meet someone they actually admire.
Never having driven a taxi, I’ve not been able to say that I had so-and-so in the back of my cab the other day. But I have had them in my queue. When I realised that I needed a job to support myself in the midst of university, I was relieved, if not thrilled, to be taken on by the Post Office. So, I spent a number of years doling out money and stuff, while trying to decide what I wanted to be when I grew up.
The girls with the queues on my left and my right where squealing with excitement afterwards. ‘Did you see who it was?’ they said to me. Of course I did. In fact, I’d happened to look up earlier, and noticed that standing patiently in my queue, a few customers back, was Jan Malmsjö and had to calm myself down a little. But I managed not to botch the transaction. And I didn’t squeal. And he was like a normal person, which probably goes for most well known people.
Yes, I know you don’t know Jan Malmsjö. But he’s a big name actor in Sweden.
Alf Hambe was more of a regular, and he is a smaller fish. He’s the local (to me) singer and songwriter/poet, who’d come in and expect to find his car tax documents in the wrong post office.
These days we find him at the beach café we like going to, in his dressing gown, at times, with a beer after an early swim.