Harry Lloyd, Charles Dickens & a Tangent

Let me introduce you to one Harry Lloyd, London-born stage and screen actor. You may have seen him in the most recent carnation of Jane Eyre, or perhaps in the new BBC miniseries Great Expectations that recently aired on PBS (still waiting for me on my DVR), or maybe you saw him in the first season of Game of Thrones (I haven't), or playing a super creepy part on an episode of Doctor Who. Apparently I have seen him around in my media consumption, but he didn't look familiar when I first saw a picture of him. This could be because he's maybe a good actor, or because he looks different in every image I've come across. He goes from boyish to goofy to skeezy to old Hollywood handsome. (All photos from http://harry-lloyd.tumblr.com/.)

     

However, his looks aren't particularly swoon-worthy in my book, I only remember one of his performances (after much thought), and I saw a short interview with him where he was not exactly charming.


So why am I telling you about him if I'm not extolling his virtues? Because he's the great-great-great-grandson of Charles Dickens. I suppose his relations don't actually make Mr. Lloyd anything special, but I love knowing connections like that. It's like a larger version of "Oh, you're from Flapjackberg? Do you know the Blahblahsons?" So many people hate that game, but I think it's natural to try and make connections with people, even in a long-shot, grasping-at-straws kind of way. It's nice to feel connected to the people and the world around you, even if the connection is tenuous. You gotta start somewhere.

*Update: I finally watched the above-mentioned BBC's Great Expectations and Harry Lloyd may be the best part of the movie. He's incredibly charming in his role as Herbert Pocket.

Tangential, relevant story: My next door neighbor has a son that lives in New York City. One day she's on a flight to Australia and she's seated next to a stranger from NYC. Now I have to tell you, my neighbor is a talker. She will talk to anyone anywhere, and no matter how much they don't want to talk, she soon has their life story. Anyway, it went something like this:

Neighbor: Where are you from?
Stranger: (Obviously doesn't want to talk) NYC.
Neighbor: Oh, my son lives there!
Stranger: (With eye roll.) That's nice.
Neighbor: He lives in Chelsea.
Stranger: (Slightly surprised) Me too.
Neighbor: He lives on the corner of ____ and ____.
Stranger: (More surprise) Really? Me too.
Neighbor: He lives in ____ building.
Stranger: (Really surprised.) Are you kidding me? What's his name?

And that's when my neighbor told this stranger that she was the mother of the man that lives in the apartment right next door to him in a city with a population of over 8 million people. You just never know.