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His name is James, he recommends handsome Mac's wine

23 February 2008, well after 8pm... James is the last to arrive at the long, 20-chair table in the far corner of an oddly-named Federation Square restaurant.

He inches through the narrow gap between table No.1 and table No.2 to reach the empty chair between a sometimes food writer and a smiling Melbourne University student who organised the food festival's short film festival.

James recognises most faces at this noisy, crammed and rollicking slow food dinner. There are food producers, chefs, various food organisation colleagues and fully-fledged foodies. He smiles to greet the table - everyone smiles back.

"Who are you?' he asks the sometimes food writer sitting to his left. Hers is one of three unfamiliar faces. He had expected to be sitting next to a slow food redhead who is married to a solicitor.

"This is not my spot," the sometimes food writer replies. "I was told that I'm on table No.1 but found no nametag."

Shifting his thin torso in his chair to almost face her, he smiles as he tells her that he is pleased to meet someone new, that she would never take a "bad photograph", that he once lived in Italy and that she should try the third wine as it is made by his "handsome" friend ‘Mac'.

"You are lucky to be sitting next to him," says an older olive-growing woman with spiky grey hair sitting directly across the table. She and her husband look to James expectantly, waiting to hear where they have seen his approachable face before.

He smiles politely - it is too noisy for cross-table conversation. "I think they think I am someone else," he whispers into the writer's ear.

Through each of the six courses, dinner guests from other tables (some inside, some out) stand or crouch down beside James' chair. "This is Robbie," he says of a redhead woman with a silk scarf tied around her neck. "You are sitting in her chair."

Table No.1 empties as soon as the crème brûlèe and lemon tart dessert is over. People farewell and state regrets for not being able to talk over the noise.

"Are you sticking around for herbal tea?" James asks the writer, but is sidetracked by slow food acquaintances, a wine buff and other random foodies.

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