I had another of my surreal days yesterday. The hour between 2pm and 3pm was particularly strange.
While trying unsuccessfully to hook up his computer to a malfunctioning T-Mobile hotspot I found myself discussing American politics with a 52-year-old Californian corporate attorney who looks like Dubya and rides on private jets but is, mercifully, a registered Democrat who invests in eco-friendly businesses.
In Starbucks.
In the City.
Next to her…
…as he walked by…
“Nikki from Big Brother 7” – as I believe she used to be known – is a testament to the abilities of Photoshop (she has appalling skin), reads Jodi Picoult novels and has a picture of a nice black and white collie as the wallpaper on her Nokia N95.
Yes, it seems she really can read.
After she left, I informed my caffeine-imbibing companion that we had been graced by the presence of Celebrity.
“Who was she?”
“She was a Big Brother contestant a couple of years ago.”
“Ha! I take it she didn’t win, then?”
Touche.
Dexter Fletcher, meanwhile, was wearing a very sharp whistle. He looks old, but then he’s always had a face like one of those dogs with all the creases that look like Steven Gerrard.
All this comes four days after almost knocking over Ronald Pickup at a train station. He’s nearly 80: even I would have felt bad about that.
And so to 48 hours of completion. I suspect I’m going to miss out Thursday and Friday and come up grimacing on Saturday.
That certainly trumps my Colin Welland-David Baddiel-Boyd Hilton (editor of Heat) 36 hour celebrity frenzy a month or so ago. Oddly I saw all of them in the context of public transport – Welland (v old) at Teddington station, Baddiel at Cov garden tube and Boyd Hilton on the 521 bus.
Why don’t I meet, say Kelsey Grammer, Lady Sarah Armstrong-Jones and Shane Meadows? D-list is better than F-list.
Oh that reminds me – Andy Gray, Jason Leonard and Robert Powell at Nice airport – public transport again!