FACE TO FACE
Chris and Catherine
Christopher Dix is a man of the world. In a roll-call of the planet’s great cities and most cosmopolitan urban sprawls, Mumbai, Tokyo and Hong Kong would all spring to mind • Chris considers all three of his home town, along with Lagos, Ottowa, Hanoi and Dallas. The very names conjure up intoxicating smells, a fi zz of excitement and the inevitable dramatic frenzy of daily life when millions upon millions of people are thrown together in a few square miles.
Between them, these places showcase some of the world’s top cultural attractions and embrace every shade of society, from high-class decadence to gritty street poverty. In contrast, Cat’s home town is the village of Liss, Hampshire (population 6,000).
Excitement in store for the visitor include the ‘Hollycombe steam fun fairground’, and • for the more adventurous • ‘The Buster Ancient Farm’, described on a local community website as ‘a fascinating re-creation of a 2,000 year old Iron Age farm settlement’.
At this point I must hold my hands up and admit that I have never had the good fortune to visit Liss, whose other claim to fame is that it is home to ‘The Bear Museum’, boasting one of the fi nest collections of teddy bears in England. It could well be a hive of metropolitan sophistication, in which case I apologise unreservedly to the parish council.
Yet from the article about it on Wikipedia, it sounds like the kind of place where the only option for kids wishing to avoid drowning in an ocean of ironage- steam-railway-teddy-bear-related tedium is petty crime or hard drugs, probably in combination. Cat’s facebook photo, which depicts her merrily making off into the darkness with what I think I can safely presume is Liss’ only television, did nothing to dispel this prejudice.
For this reason alone, I was initially sceptical about matching Chris and Cat. He sounded like the kind of man who can happily while away the hours comparing the pros and cons of business class on various transatlantic airlines; she professed an interest in sports involving lesbianism. Despite this, something told me that they would fi nd something to talk about.
On her profi le, Cat claimed to know all the capital cities of the world, whilst Chris (in common with Eton boys the world over) tried to make a joke in Latin. Both showed a fl air for imparting information that is designed to make you look cool but possibly only serves to induce others to treat you with pity. More importantly, they were both fans of TV show 24 and represented the Blues in pastimes optimistically described as ‘sports’ by those who enjoy them, namely judo and ice hockey.
Plus, to be honest, I couldn’t be bothered to fi nd anyone else. We met at Cafe Coco and I left them to it...
What Cat thought of the date: “My first impression of Chris was that he was a little shorter than me but he had a great body so it wasn’t an issue. I relaxed within about a minute of meeting him. He was courteous and friendly and the conversation fl owed really easily. We discussed the evils of third year, and bonded over the deterioration of bops since fi rst year.
He’s Canadian so fortunately already understood the intricacies of ice hockey. As the evening wore on I thought highly of Chris; he has everything going for him but doesn’t come across as arrogant at all. He seemed game for anything and had a great sense of humour. He even apologised for being unchivalrous and letting me eat more than him, although given his two-kebab- a-day history I wasn’t exactly worried he was judging me on my eating habits...
Was there a spark? I couldn’t really tell you. I’m not being coy, I just generally have to meet someone more than once before I’ll feel that connection. I had a fantastic evening, though, and the Coco staff were very discreet, despite the slightly crazy waiter saying that if the OxStu wanted he’d be happy to photograph secretly us… We didn’t exchange contact details but said we’d fi nd each other on facebook. I’d like to hang out with him as friends.
Plus if I make it to some judo sessions then I’m sure we’ll bump into each other. ”
What Chris thought of the date: I did ask Chris for an account of his night with Cat but for unkown reasons he decided to subject me to a torrent of prose that read like it was written by someone who was attempting a fi rst foray into the english language armed only with a Mills and Boon novel and an oversized thesaurus.
Against my better judgement, I decided to print it anyway; just remember that the poor boy’s mind was clearly addled with love when he wrote it and try not to feel too sorry for him: “As she sashayed into Cafe CoCo, my heart skipped a beat or a dozen. Having removed the blazer covering my copious tattoos and fragile ego, I found myself feeling naked and effi minate. I prayed, hoping against all hope that Cat would become my next muse.
As the wine washed down my parched throat, the dulcet tones of Nabakov [sic] slid off my tongue and I was captivated by Cat’s mastery of the Ice Hockey blues regulations. “I shall wake up every morning and anxiously check to see whether this siren of my past has left her poking calling card. Until that moment, any pokes from other mermaids will brighten my love-struck life.
As I staggered back to Peter’s alone, I found myself wondering whether I drunk on love or, more likely this rare and radient beauty had spiked my drink.
2nd Feb 2006