'Hi Terko, what are you doing next weekend? I need someone to go with me to Freddie's auction to Sothebys and I don't speak a word of English. Are you coming?', asked me my best friend Paul, just few days prior. I was already put up with the idea that I won't see it, as I had no one to go with, so this was a delightful news, although bit last minute. Sure I'd go. I'm Freddie's fan aren' t I? To physically see his possessions that have been surrounding him for most of his adult life, was something so personal and intimate, that to miss this once a lifetime chance would be a sin. We bought tickets to London for 2nd of September and decided to take it real fast, no staying over night, just jump on a jet and enjoy the ride.
We arrived early morning at Stansead airport and took a train to Liverpool station. I had my little travel itinerary ready, as usual, but as usual too, they were good for nothing, as there was yet another London tube strike (which happens everytime I visit London for some weird reason). Se we had to rely on asking strangers and random metro workers to direct us to Kensington, which would be our first compulsory stop. After cruising around in a bus for what seemed quite a sweaty fifteen minutes (because we didn't have a clue if we got onto the right one), we ended up close to Kensington. I remember the last time I was here, it was some 27 years ago. Freddie's door was still there, so were all those hundreds of fans' signatures and doting messages, including my one, which said Tereza 96. Now, there were just high wired fences and plexi glass covering the main door. We all know what I'm talking about, don't we.
We have met a Czech girl in the street in front of the house, who was also coming to see it for herself. The place felt much colder than ever before, but we were still exctatic to be there in person. Paul was here for the first time in his life, so I was happy to accompany him on this experience. There was not much to do or see, so we continued towards the city, rushing through without being able to enjoy it as our time was squeezed into few hours. We needed to catch the best spot in a queue which was already forming around Sotheby's. We only stopped for a quick sandwich in Covent Garden, strolled around a bit and then rushed again to Bond Street.
When we arrived, we saw what seemed a long line of people turning around the corner. We never thought of trying to check how long the queue is. As we waited and waited, now maybe one hour without a visible change, Paul had an idea to go and check it out. He came fifteen minutes later from behind me and told me to be quiet, not ask anything and follow him. I was slightly nervous, because I did not believe that he would secure us faster entry and I was scared to lose our spot. But he was insistant and led me around the whole building, then around another corner and another one....and then it hit me. The queue wrapped around the hole huge Sothey's building and the entry was behind our back the whole time. Paul waved at the black guard, who immeditaly let us in as some kind of VIP. I was astonished, but didn't dare to ask. Paul managed to get us in because he told the guard in his broken English, that he is a diabetic and urgently needs to have some food inside the cafe bar. I couldn't believe he just did that, but I had to laugh. So bold! But that was just Paul. The fact was, we did manage to skip a queue that was maybe two more hours long. We had a quick coffee in the bar, then took the Auction by storm.
As soon as I entered, I not only saw Freddie's famous kimono and beautiful garments from seventies, but I stepped into another world, which is hard to describe. All the items once belonged to person I love more than my life, and adore and worship. It was hard to understand that the essence of this person was once touching and wearing all this stuff, yet now, they were just clothes. Most of the items reminded me some exquisite pieces from a museum, they were beautiful and artsy and whatnot, but I could not detect a soul in them. Freddie's soul. When we neared the shabby looking kitchen table with benches, where Freddie used to spend most of his time (as seen in all photos and videos), I instantly felt a strong energy, and I am very good at sensing energies. This was the only piece of furniture or article where I could feel him present, as if engraved into the wood. I could imagine him sitting there in his shorts and vest, smoking and drinking a can of beer, chatting away to Straker and Jim. I nearly cried when I touched the wooden table, not really wanting anyone else to buy it and take it away for good.
I was upset over Mary's decision to sell his stuff, I was and I still am, as many others like Brian. I know for sure Jim would be upset, no questions asked. But it is what it is, and there was nothing we could do about it. I knew I am seeing and touching his stuff for the last time in my life, so I made sure I touched pretty much everything ( his Royal cloak, his Adidas shoes, his piano...you name it). There were so many people with us, who were quiet, observant, even kind to each other, as we were squeezing our way around the exhibition rooms. Mostly, people were quiet as if in some kind of fascinated and sad transe, trying to understand, how on earth could anyone get rid off Freddie's personal possesions. That' s what I thought anyway.
I remember an older lady coming out of the Auction with her friends, crying and wiping her eyes. I knew she wasn' t crying with happiness, that I know for sure. Part of us was being sold to the world and nobody cared. These items were part of Frreddie, therefore part of us too. And I know that people will say....hey, it was just a stuff. Stop making a fuss., BUT......there is still this soft, little BUT. We all know, Mary could have made a better decision, like giving it to people who would make a museum or took good care of all the items and preserved them for next generations. I hope she achieved what she wanted and has a clear conscience, because I tell you honestly, that I wouldn't if I was her.
Leaving Freddie behind was like seeing him dying all over again. Seeing his stuff being sold bit by bit was like watching Freddie being torn into little shreds of paper and sold off for millions of bucks to strangers, to rich guys who will store it in their closet and pride themselves over what a catch they have. Every rich or famous person will have a piece of Freddie. Good for them, because we, the poor beggers, his biggest fans, we have Freddie in our hearts and there is nothing bigger than that. No vase, chandelier or piano, will bring us closer to him, because we already are close. So when I get upset over it, I always think again, and remind myself, that we ain't no losers, no we are not.
And here go some pictures, hope you enjoy them. I have billions of others, but they would not fit here, so if anyone wants them, I am more than glad to send them privately.
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