To take him to see David Attenborough in the flesh.
Attenborough is one of my Husband's childhood heroes. He rates pretty highly on my meter too. There aren't many like him around anymore when it comes to sheer enthusiasm and knowledge of the natural world.
Last week I got my wish. We attended a fundraising lecture at the Royal Geographic Society. The event was in aid of the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature with David Attenborough and Richard Fortey as the guest speakers; there to discuss the whole scientific naming process. I wasn't particularly taken with the topic and hoped it wouldn't be overly dry or boring.
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| Sir David Attenborough and Prof. Richard Fortey |
As the seats in the audience filled to capacity, the Husband nudged me:
Look! There he is!
No, that's not him, I replied authoratively. That guy is limping. Attenborough doesn't limp.
I was forced to eat my words moments later when the slightly limping, white hair gentleman took to the stage and sat down.
The Husband remained silent.
Ok. Ok. I muttered . I guess he is 84.
Frail though he may be, the minute Sir David opened his mouth we were in his thrall. The guy is a damn good public speaker with charisma to boot. Bucketloads. Scientfic nomenclature suddenly became fascinating, humorous and inspiring. It was one of the best talks I have been to.
Afterwards as we filed out starry eyed, into the bitter winter chill, I turned to the Husband:
Well? What did you think?
I'm so glad I got to see him. It was the best.
My work is done.
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