|
|
|
|
 |
An evening with Keith Hamiltom
Cobb, February 22nd, 2003
What a perfect gentleman. Not that it was any surprise! Tall, lean - probably hasn't got an ounce of fat on him. I'd say 6ft 5 easily, maybe even 6ft 6. Yes, the dreads are gone. His hair was very short, I described it to friends at the event as 'almost a buzz-cut'. It was soft and slightly springy to the touch (yes, it happened on impulse as I was having my photo taken with him). The goatee was back (Yay! I like the goatee!) and he was a picture in blue: - teal-ish shirt, open about half way and thus displaying a fair expanse of toned chest and body hair along with a beautiful silver crucifix on a leather thong. The trousers were a patterned, paler blue with a recurring scallop motif, which made him look rather like an exotic merman, slight flaring at ankles, white socks and 'walking/desert boots' (which he removed for his talk, which is why I know about the socks!).
Keith was (is) thoughtful, eloquent, gracious, generous and utterly charming. He did a delightful 'little boy' grin when asked if perhaps he was too serious to do pranks on set and said no, he isn't. Actually, he smiles a whole lot more than Tyr and his American accent seemed slightly stronger to me. No, I didn't drool (!); I appreciated. A fine man and I hope to SEE him do Shakespeare one day (heck, I'd be on stage with him if I could, but I'm not holding my breath!).
Once we feared The Beast - when he followed us we ran,
Ran very fast though we knew
It was not right that The Beast should master Man;
But what could we Flint-workers do?
The Beast only grinned at our spears round his ears
Grinned at the hammers that we made;
But now we will hunt him for the life with the Knife
And this is the Buyer of the Blade!
Room for his shadow on the grass - let it pass!
To left and right - stand clear!
This is the Buyer of the Blade - be afraid!
This is the great God Tyr!
Tyr thought hard till he hammered out a plan,
For he knew it was not right (And it is not right) that The Beast should
master Man;
So he went to the Children of the Night.
He begged a Magic Knife of their make for our sake
When he begged for the Knife they said: 'The price of the Knife you would
buy is an eye!'
And that was the price he paid.
Tell it to the Barrows of the Dead - run ahead!
Shout it so the Women's Side can hear!
This is the Buyer of the Blade - be afraid!
This is the great God Tyr!
Our women and our little ones may walk on the Chalk,
As far as we can see them and beyond.
We shall not be anxious for our sheep when we keep Tally at the
shearing-pond.
We can eat with both our elbows on our knees, if we please,
We can sleep after meals in the sun;
For Shepherd-of-the-Twilight is dismayed at the Blade, Feet-in-the-Night
have run!
Dog-without-a-Master goes away (Hai, Tyr aie!),
Devil-in-the-Dusk has run!
Then: Room for his shadow on the grass - let it pass!
To left and right - stand clear!
This is the Buyer of the Blade - be afraid! This is the great God Tyr!
1 3 - 1 5th August 2004
Gordon and Steve were mucking about, so I cracked up! |
Got my mike and my coffee... All these pix courtesy of David Lewis |
And here's Kevin practicing his Scottish country dancing... |
Feelings...nothing more than feelings... |
Happy thoughts |
Steve surrenders! |
I'm a little teapot... |
It went for a vast sum in the charity auction! |
Not gonna go there. Tempted (!), but not going. |
Before they went on, I think |
Not sure which 'con' dance we were doing here. |
Nothing in Heaven functions as it ought:
Peter's bifocals, blindly sat on, crack;
His gates lurch with the cackle of a cock
Not turn with a hush of gold as Milton had thought;
Gangs of the slaughtered innocent keep huffing
The nimbus off the Venerable Bede
Like that of an old dandelion gone to seed;
And the beatific choir keep breaking up, coughing.
But Hell, sleek Hell hath no freewheeling part:
None takes his own sweet time, none quickens pace.
Ask anyone, How come you here, poor heart?
And he will slot a quarter through his face,
You'll hear an instant click, a tear will start,
Imprinted with an abstract of his case.
What a lovely, sparky lady! [Laura, not me!] I was in my new Elektra cozzie Three more and I've got most of the regular crew |
|
|
|
|