Many years ago *cough* when I was a teenager I had a Saturday job in WHSmith in Kensington.
Leaving aside The Time I Couldn’t Go To Live Aid Because I Was Working, it was quite an enjoyable job. If we were quiet I’d spend a lot of my time browsing the books, particularly the art books.
Because of the location, we used to get quite a few famous people coming in the store. The late great Frankie Howerd was a regular, plus various other minor celebs.
One day I noticed a man wearing a cord jacket with blondish hair and round glasses browsing the books. I recognised him instantly: David Hockney.
I knew that I would never forgive myself if I didn’t speak to him. So with typical schoolgirl chutzpah, when he was writing a cheque to pay for the books he was buying, I said: ‘If I buy a copy of your book, will you sign it for me?’
‘OK,’ he said in that familiar voice, looking a bit surprised.
And that’s exactly what happened. He even wrote my name, bless him. The book cost £18 – probably my whole day’s wages – but I have a little piece of David Hockney to keep always. Worth every penny.
My mum took my niece to see his exhibition at the Royal Academy on Sunday – and she was thrilled to see the book with his signature in. I’ll give her the book one day.
Wow, that’s pretty cool. You should come to Saltaire and see his stuff in the Salt’s Mill gallery. Hockney in Hockney country.
Lovely post. I’m going to the RA exhibition with my daughter and can’t wait to see it!
What a lovely story. I’ve always loved DH’s style, ever since seeing one of his swimming pool paintings in a gallery when I was a teenager. I loved the piece on Countryfile a few weeks ago about the exhibition. I’m hoping I can take my children to see it.