Plinth Kisses

Plinth Kisses

You raised me up on love and….

It was a sunny Sunday morning, the 9th of  August at 9am, 2009.  A JCB trundled toward the fourth Plinth in Trafalgar Square, London and I atop it spotted family and friends waving from the  base of it. They had forgone their Sunday morning lie-ins to support me in my mission to bill and coo, blow kisses and deliver forth love proclamations from up high.

I was a Plinther; a randomly chosen applicant of the Anthony Gormley Plinth Project, One and Other, whereby over the course of 100 days, a different person would rise to the challenge and take to the plinth on every  hour, for an hour.

With the  help  of cohorts, Robert Pereno and Lord Alexis George Hill, we aimed to make this  occasion truly interactive as I would be transmitted live over the web cast and  hit  upon,  ‘The  Kiss  Line’. What better way to communicate with the audience in the virtual realm of reality then by text?  Thus  missives were  sent out, teasing videos made,  appeals to  the love struck to send in kiss dedications  which I  would then  upon the plinth,  wholeheartedly pronounce on their  behalf.

Yet, the course of true love never did run smooth…

The evening prior to my  ascension, I arrived in London late  having  come  directly from The Big  Chill music  festival.  Exhausted  and  with my voice near hoarse  I discovered I had not registered the phone properly. There was no credit on the kiss line and for some technical reason we were having trouble in getting it to work. Rattling with adrenalin and the fear of doom, Miss Rachel  Khoo  came to my  rescue  and  if  I  have  learnt  anything  at  all,   it  is  that  love  can  never be  a one sided  affair.

The  next  morning expected  at  the  Square for  7.30 am, I  experienced the most beguiling  of  life’s  pleasures, empty London streets. I spent the ensuing time filling in requisite forms, a half hour interview and  a jolt of caffeine.  Then suddenly  it was  9am, my  turn  and my eyes welled up overcome by the occasion. I recall thinking, I must not cry… it wouldn’t be cool, then  again one  couldn’t get more  cheesy then the Kiss  Line.   Indeed,  the  whole  conceit  was drenched in romance, my  dress a fuchsia  chiffon  with  a hint of  the  bridesmaid  about it, (alas,  never the bride). Indeed,  a  Brontian  faint, considering my  fear of heights  would  not  have been out of  place.

The  JCB  came to  a  halt, the previous Plinther packed  up and …

From that  moment on all  is  a blur,  a  wonderful,  glorious  blur as  the bells rang out and the   beep, beep of  incoming  texts swiftly  arrived one after another. It was working, this  conceit;  the  Kiss  Line.  Romance  was  not  dead  and   love  was in the  air.  Texts  poured  in from  as  far away as New Zealand, Austria,  France, Ibiza  and  then, then  but  soft…  It  was no longer I  professing love but  a  love professed, as  Romeo Pereno  began his Shakespearian serenade.  I was as Juliet likened to the rising sun, never have I been so publicly lauded.

And … beep, beep,  beep,  beep, I love you, I love you, I love you, one  text followed after another,  till  in a blink, a most flirtatious wink,  I  glimpsed the  returning JCB.  All too soon over and my  lips still  a tremble.

back to confessions…