The intimidatingly erudite and thoroughly charming Stephen Fry. In person, at the Opera House! I had a dream once where he bought me a gin, and that is how my imagined version of this evening ended.
In this ideal world Caro and I were also not half-drowned during the walk between the car and the concert hall. Inside-out umbrellas, wet stockings and a handbag that smelled like damp stables (the combination of straw in the rain, who knew?). He was worth it.
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