Bob and I went for a walk on Wimbledon Common. A film crew must have been working nearby, because several of their vans were parked there. Outside the catering van, a large table had been set up in the open air, beautifully laid with plates of cakes and muffins, pots of coffee, and even two large vases of exotic flowers. At the side of the van was a serving hatch outside which hung a blackboard with a hand-chalked menu of the day, including tasty soups and stews. We briefly wondered if we could saunter up to the hatch, pretend to be actors, and ask for a plateful of feta cheese and butternut squash casserole, but we didn’t think we could muster the right intonation.
As we walked down into the woods in the autumn sunshine, I fantasised about how great it would be to be followed around on concert tours by such a catering van. Instead of running out into the nearby streets between rehearsal and concert, searching for somewhere that’s open and serving the right kind of food at the right speed, we would be looked after by a dedicated team of chefs waiting in the wings with vases of lilies and plates of nourishing snacks. Lucky film actors!