Quince Out of Mind

Gossip hound Devon Quince tries to match the swagger of perennial tourist Bob Dylan, who's back in Australia once again.

Usually, after receiving a call regarding my scheduled interviews, I start getting ready for an international flight. I pack my bags, set up the dog feeder (Jimbo and Jambo are fanatical about their eats), and tie a hair around my diary latch (my cleaner Saul simply cannot be trusted). So I was more than a little miffed this week, when I found out that I'd be interviewing the great Bob Dylan no more than a car ride from the house.

Nonetheless, I was excited. Off to see the legend that is Bob Dylan. All those songs I loved and grew up with: Take It Easy, Miss American Pie, Bad Moon Rising. Or so I thought. Some woman from RoveDaily pointed out they weren't Dylan songs, that somehow I had him confused with Don McLean, Credence and The Eagles. Go figure. But if you read last week column, you'd know I've been heavily medicated for many years.

Anyway, after much arguing, culminating in a series of framed, signed movie posters being smashed in the RoveDaily offices, we agreed I knew who Bob Dylan was. I may have had the songs wrong but the facts straight. I even knew his real name, Robert Zimmerman. So after they made me change out of my shorts, I trotted off (on foot mind you!) to meet the Zim.

After impatiently waiting for just under an hour, he finally arrived. But before I could lambaste the man for his tardiness, I was dazzled by his supreme appearance. Resplendent in black western shirt and suit, he sauntered by me with the quickest flash of a smile from under his brimmed hat, muttering a greeting in his deep, southern drawl.

Devon Quince: Well Mr. Zimmerman this is indeed an honour.

Bob Dylan: You can ahh…call me Bob.

DQ: But Robert Zimmerman is your real name?

BD: A long time ago.

DQ: Alright. Well Bob it is. Can I say Bob- that is quite a beautiful moustache you have fashioned there.

BD: Thank you. I think it is rather nice.

DQ: I must say you are very well put together. Not only the facial hair, but such charming dress…

BD: Well I can see you're quite the dandy yourself, sir.

DQ: I thank you. That is quite the compliment coming from you. Hey, you know who I like…The Eagles.

BD: Oh yeah? Your kind of music…you dig it?

DQ: Yeah. Not that I don't like your music…The Times are a Lazy and all that…

BD: Well I'm glad you dig my stuff, man. What other songs do you like?

DQ: Oh lots. Lay Larry Lay, Like a Ringing Phone, The Cyclone…

BD: Well that's grand. Really, you're a swell fella, Devon Quince.

DQ: Thank you Bob Dylan. Oh, and I just love Raspberry Beret…

BD: Well sir, I've got to go now. I'll send you some of my cds…as you like them so much.

DQ: Yes…please do. That would be…ahhh…grand.

With that Bob Dylan (aka Robert Zimmerman) sauntered quietly out of the room, just as he'd come in; with a quick smile and tip of his hat. A more charming gentleman I have never met.