Maybe I don’t spend enough time looking into people’s eyes, I some how doubt the regulars at the Plume or general patrons elsewhere would be amused if I started staring into unsolicited eyeballs. I think there would be a book opened to decide if I was hitting on people or trying to hypontise them and more then one occurance of me being matched out of watering holes at broom point.
I knew a guy who my PE teacher Mr Ellis nicknamed “Twinkle-Toes” on the grounds that he clod hopped around the exercise grounds as if someone had fitted him with solid Lead clogs, it was one of those nicknames which got shortened and stuck. I saw him a few years after leaving school hitting on a group of girls at the bar in the Severn Gorge and naturally I started a conversation with “Hello Twinkle”, he was best not amused as you might imagine.
The last person whose eyes I gazed into for any length of time were those of the wonderful and immensely beautiful Amy Cherry after a joyful night of mischievous chat, food and “singing” at an Irish Bar in London. We were walking back to hers from the pub and admittedly in this case I was joking around a bit, but it similarly echoed a moment a few years previous in a Twickenham. This was our first proper meeting since I’d been dating Philippa (who had some weird contempt for young Amy) and I was currently dating Mary and after a night of (Amy) strutting her funky stuff to a 90s disco sound track we had a friendly hug for a little bit (it was probably about four seconds in reality) we looked into one another’s and I remember how sparkly her eyes were, I also remember her saying “prove to me that you love Mary-Moo”, which I did. I think that might be the nearest example I can voice of seeing a twinkle in someone’s eye.
Here is young Amy from said night out proving she has lovely legs and more amazingly I managed to get them in shot as opposed to on other occasions.