A chap at the door. ‘They’re ready for you on set, Mr Connery.’
He smiled. ‘Mr. Connery.’ No one had called him that when he had been riding round Edinburgh on a horse drawn cart delivering milk. Back then he’d been plain ‘Tam’.
A lot had happened since then.
There was talk of a sequel if this spy film was a hit. It all seemed a bit far-fetched to him, but it was a leading role, the pay cheque was decent and he was getting a few weeks of sun in Jamaica.
He stepped out into the warm midday heat, with clear blue sky overhead.
You didn’t get much of this in Edinburgh either.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).
At the weekend, Sir Sean Connery passed away at the age of 90. It’s hard to quantify how much of an influence his life had on me – from his film acting and my obsession with James Bond, but also his love of Scotland and the type of no nonsense Scottishness he embodied. Thomas Sean Connery famously started out as a milkman after leaving school, and worked as a coffin buffer, joined the navy and came 3rd in Mr Universe before finding acting. The rest is history. So effortlessly cool, such presence, that voice. The title of Greatest Living Scotsman is now vacant.
To read stories of 100 words based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.
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