I HAD lunch with Bachie the other day. Yes, the ‘Bachelor’, Perth’s own ‘dirty street pie’ Blake Garvey!
He didn’t know it, is all.
The funny (peculiar, not ha ha) thing about our lunch was that I was on another date. But he was to! Arriving at our location with a mate – true love Louise nowhere to be seen.
Wearing a baseball cap, mirror sunglasses, a crisp blue singlet and boardies (I didn’t get to see if his sandgroper feet were clad in those awful surfer joe thongs), he wedged his broad shoulders decisively through the front door towards me, lips closed in a very familiar way…before heading straight outside to a balcony table.
It was then I realised who I had been staring at. And it wasn’t my date!
But I digress…
Meet Danny the Irishman. I know I only posted a few days ago and that I’m skipping ahead several weeks from my last victim, and I will return there before long dedicated groupies, but I feel I must capitalise on my celebrity spotting while people still ‘care’ (factor nil and falling) about the Bachelor (capitalisation due to noun-ishness).
I would care about my own bachelors, if they would let me, that is. While handsome and healthy, this very serious Northern Ireland gent was described by ‘the agency’ as having golf as his passion. Clearly a love of birdies would be an extension of this utter abandon, but alas, not this rare albatross.
As the afternoon wore on, I could see him checking his watch and the stronger the Freo Doctor blew, the more agitated he seemed.
I jokingly asked him if our meeting meant he’d had to miss out on a round of golf, to which he replied how frustrating it was to drive so far from his southern golf course home when there were plenty of closer establishments that would allow him adequate time to also indulge his sporting obsession.
To be fair, we had a nice chat, although we seemed to have a different sense of humour, ie he didn’t have one. Maybe it was nerves. Or putter withdrawal.
And unlike the stereotypical Irishman in my mind’s eye, he didn’t sing, play an instrument, or do the jig. He did however enjoy a pint of Rogers. I stuck to my Japanese green tea.
Anyway, he was very businesslike, shaking my hand at our departure, as if the former Irish golf national competitor, actually did have something much more important and passionate to do.
I felt like a bit of a dodo (completely rare!), but happy to return to my own familiar green, complete with its own bogeys.