So often restaurants give people too much food. Of course, many people take the leftovers home to eat, but if they are from out of town, it's another matter.
Last night we saw the old crooner, Engelbert Humperdinck, at the Silver Legacy Grand Exposition room. I agree with my sister that the acoustics could have been better there; sometimes the sound was a bit tinny. As for the singer, he was good, if one likes that kind of music. A lot of people did, a couple of thousand, and many of those were people from out of state. He also told his share of off-color jokes, just as Robert Goulet did when he was in Reno three years ago.
This year marks the 40th anniversary of the beginning of when EH's career really took off with the release of his signature tune, "Please Release Me." He's touring all over the U.S. and overseas (he has a couple of homes in Britain as well as his main residence in Beverly Hills), and since he is worth tens of millions of dollars, he can work whenever he feels like it.
My sister, who had not seen him since 1988, when she and I and the rest of the tribe saw him up at Tahoe, was rather shocked at how much weight he has gained over the years. Unlike Mick Jagger, EH hasn't bothered with hiring a personal trainer to get him into shape for his tours. He's 71, and the law of gravity has taken its toll. However, he appears to have had a facelift or two or more over the years, which my sister frowned upon. After all, when he was younger he didn't need it, and he simply should have let himself grow older gracefully. When he was younger, of course, his considerable good looks got him into trouble, with at least two paternity suits successfully lodged against him:
Although the tax rules mean that he can live in England for only 90 days a year, he has a place here, in Leicestershire, which is where he grew up. It's a massive pile, actually, built originally for the Duchess of Hamilton, and it's where his wife, Patricia, mostly lives. Patricia, mother of his four, now grown-up, children (a daughter and three sons), has always been marvellously long- suffering. Indeed, she once even said she could paper their bedroom with Engelbert's paternity suits. (Obviously, the Port Salut look is not off-putting in some quarters.) Someone always seems to be banging on his door, claiming he's their father. Has anyone banged on it recently? "There was an incident the other day when someone banged on my door." Oh? "Finally, I let them out. Ha, ha, ha... no, not recently."
However, in the Seventies and Eighties, a showgirl from California and, gloriously, a Sunday-school teacher from New York both extracted maintenance payments from him for their daughters. Does he see these children? "No. I have four children. A daughter and three sons." You're not interested in seeing these other genes march on? "No." I'm not sure he's an especially curious person...
Hopefully he is not pulling that silly crap anymore. His four children with his wife are involved in his career (and perhaps to keep an eye on him). I saw his daughter, Louise, when he was in Reno back in 2001.
