Sean Connery and Other Scotsmen

I’ve been thinking about Sean Connery this week. (And you haven’t?)

He’s been on my mind, first, because Goldfinger and To Russia with Love are the feature films in the James Bond fest this weekend at the Victoria Theatre’s Cool Film Series here in Dayton. Coincidentally, my first date was at a double feature of those two exact movies.

 It was the late 1960s. I was in junior high. My friend up the street had a crush on the cousin of the kid next door.  And, just so her pursuit of the cousin would not seem so forward (girls were not supposed to be “forward” in those days; as my mother used to say, “You don’t want to get a bad reputation!”) my friend contrived for the four of us to go to the movies as a casual outing. Her plan was that I should sit with the neighbor, a goony kid from my class at school whom neither of us deemed crush-worthy, and she planned to snuggle up to the cute cousin with the Beatles haircut. I wore a dress – it was kind of a sailor’s number in navy with a big collar and a navy tie.  We all went downtown together on the bus on a Saturday afternoon — my parents had insisted that if we were out with boys, it had to be during daylight hours. For some reason, and I don’t remember why, the two guys sat in one row and we girls sat in the row behind them. It wasn’t as if the theatre was crowded. There were maybe 10 people in the whole place. Who knows how we ended up that way. Maybe my friend chickened out. Or it’s entirely possible that the doofy guys had no idea that they were on a date or even that they were being chased (“Chased” was how my mother would have put it. “Boys don’t like girls chasing them. You let them do the chasing.”) Or maybe they were on to our plan and weren’t having any part of it —girl cooties —they were there to watch 007. In any case, the date turned out to be a big fizzle, at least for my friend. I don’t recall the sequence of events after that, but I ended up going steady for about a year and a half with the cute cousin with the Beatles haircut. My friend up the street never spoke to me again, which was ok with my mom who never liked her anyway, “No big loss. That girl has always been a bad influence.”  I was head over heels crazy about the guy until high school when I got braces on my teeth and he took up with a cheerleader.  Mother was philosophical about that, too, “Well, dear, plenty more fish in the sea.”

Anyway, the end of that story brings me to the second reason that Sean Connery is on my mind. I just have to share a photo I took on our trip to Scotland last month.

As you can see, this fabulous poster was in a bathroom —our hotel bathroom to be precise. Adds a touch of excitement to one’s morning ablutions, let me tell you! I might want one of these at home.

Why was there a giant poster of Sean Connery and Ursula Andress in our hotel bathroom, you ask?  Because, the Balmoral Hotel in Edinburgh, one of those venerable old railway hotels, which is a very central edifice in the city situated atop Waverley train station, underwent a major refurbishment in the 1990s. Sean Connery, possibly the most famous of Scotsmen, was invited to cut the ribbon at the reopening. Later, in 2012, the interior designer involved in the most recent Balmoral renovation paid homage to Sir Sean with these iconic images in the bathrooms. (Isn’t that a hoot? Extra points to whoever can name the Bond movie this shot came from.)

Now, Connery was once voted by People magazine, “the sexiest man of the century” – not sure which one, but no matter, he is drop-dead gorgeous in this century or the last.

This brings me to the topic of Scottish men in general.  The majority of Scotsmen I observed —whether they were waiters, bell hops, doormen, concierges, tour guides, clerks in shops, soldiers at castles, maître d’s or guys on corners playing bagpipes — were so darn cute! Many with red hair and freckles. Some in kilts — verrrrrrry sexy, Jimmy! And those accents! Even though I had no idea what they were saying half the time, that lilting Scottish brogue could reduce me to a wee puddle of oatmeal porridge every time!

Och, to be in Scotland again. I’m not fishing in the sea, of course, but Scottish salmon seem to be a handsome catch. Aye, laddie!