Our Secret Heart Throbs

I guess we all have a secret heart throb, someone we admire from afar, and pray they never find out.

Years ago while working in the Public Relations Department at the iconic and world renowned Mount Nelson Hotel, that beautiful space situated in Orange Street, almost at the entrance to the famous Gardens walkway into the city, it was the playground to the very rich and famous, as well as politicians, films stars, world renowned musician, artists and the not so famous.

Just a sneak preview into some of the iconic, funny and memorable moments and experiences, some of us were privileged to witness, like the famous Richard Harris, whilst staying at the hotel, wandered around with a black cloak draped around his body, in a very drunken moment he hopped onto the reception desk, pacing back and forth he entertained the night staff and a few late night guests to Shakespeare.  I believe it was a moment to behold and treasure.

According to the Mount Nelson Hotel information blurb John Lennon, a few months before his untimely death booked in under the pseudonym “Mr. Greenwood”.  He is said to have been exceptionally tidy, making his own bed every day and meditating on Table Mountain.

As the very junior public relations person, I was assigned all the tasks no-one else really wanted to do, like that of a  “Gofer”, organizer of  transport for the residents into town or a visit to the theatre and the like, greet and meet  with travel agents and tour guides local and international. Take abuse from old ladies (tongue in cheek), arrange airport pickup and drop off. Listen to all kinds of complaints about the food, state of the nation as well as a list of ailments,    An ideal job for a young twenty-three year old with stars in her eyes and a sense of humour, don’t you think!  I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Year in and year out a group of very wealthy elderly, mainly, old ladies came out to South Africa to escape the British winter, by making the Mount Nelson Hotel their home from home.  Some were very kind, some very tricky and one or two were downright rude, one especially, when greeted was overheard to say: “The peasants are getting out of hand!”

Every afternoon after a little siesta, few of these old ladies, sometimes one of the old chaps,   would make themselves comfortable in a corner of the main lounge, where they would play a game or two of Bridge.

One day, much to the annoyance of my old bridge playing friends, I informed them that we could not accommodate their card game as French TV in association with SABC would be shooting some scenes for some or other production in the lounge and the reception area.  Oh!  They were furious,  muttering and moaning, I managed to placate them by suggesting that instead of playing bridge we could arrange their chairs in such a way so that they can watch and be part of the action.

With all the furniture re-arranged, lights, cables, screens, cameras all over the place, producers, make up people, actors, the old ladies and me all waiting for action…… suddenly there was a hush, a collective silence, all eyes focused on  the reception area, in he padded, almost gliding – this man, this very good looking godlike, six foot and some inches man.  

All of us and I mean all of us, from the film crew, actors, staff, old ladies, were all spell bound.  I somehow think we forgot to breathe.

He certainly made a grand entrance; muscular, lithe, graceful and elegant, dressed in khaki shirt and shorts and a veldt hat, clearly the man of the moment; ah yes, and then we remembered to breathe.

There in our presence, the inimitable, one and only Ben Dekker.

If I tell you that in that moment it seemed like the world skipped a beat, well certainly my heart skipped a beat or two.

You know that moment, that; “be still my heart” moment, when one develops a huge crush, almost childish adoration and if he speaks to me or even notices me, I think I will die or even worse be reduced to a bright red stammering wreck.  That is exactly what happened to me and how I felt.

Who is this Ben Dekker character?  What is myth and what is the truth?  According to Wikipedia he is a forester, botanical expert, environmentalist, actor, aspiring politician, explorer, human rights activist, painter sculptor, writer, poet, maverick and back in the day, heart throb to many.

Mesmerized, we watched him create magic!

The old ladies and their bridge game soon forgotten, enjoyed every second of the filming, suddenly they were young and coquettish, no more aches and pains as they were too busy trying to attract Ben’s attention.

All too soon it was over, our man Ben left the building, crews of people set about reeling up cables and packing away lights and screens, a really fun time had come to an end, and I got to take myself off home, still swooning over my man Ben.

The next day everything was back to normal, the hotel was busy,  as usual I was running around organizing transport, dealing with silly complaints and being reminded that the peasants were definitely getting out of hand!    I wasn’t fazed I was too busy dreaming about my heart throb. That is until I happened to walk through the lounge. 

Well, well, well, what do we have here? 

Hmpphh! My heart throb, my Ben, enjoying a game of bridge with the old ladies, I was outraged! 

Such betrayal, how dare they flirt with my Ben like that? Oh well, some romances are over before they even started!

Source: Wikipedia