Eddie and I visited Lacoste in 2006. I found out Tom Stoppard lived here. I took pictures of his garden. I hoped to casually run into him on Rue Saint Trophime. I went home disappointed.
Five years later, Tom has moved on. One of Lacoste’s local characters has a connection to Tom’s place, though, and I got to go inside. I saw what he saw and where he sat.
The starstruck aspiring screenwriter in me squealed at this: the desk where he wrote “Shakespeare in Love.”
I imagined him taking writing breaks to walk through his garden or lounge in his pool.
I imagined him eating brie on a baguette while sitting on his terrace.
That's not Tom.
I imagined him gazing up at the Marquis de Sade’s chateau, seeking inspiration.
I imagined myself writing this blog post as an ode to a former Lacoste resident whose work I appreciate. Sadly, this post won’t lead to any Oscars.
Observe and report 
Leave a Reply