I was just getting some vastly overpriced bread as usual, and had just left the White Horse opposite, (which I do regularly to prepare myself for the ordeal of the bread buying) and within seconds I was kicking myself. Because; if there was one thing that would have made the day of Bryany and Kerry Gold and Foxy and Ruby and Natahlia and Jesse that afternoon it would have been if I had introduced myself to Mr Brand and offered him a mineral water and we had retraced my steps to the hallowed ground and I had been able to say 'Just look what I've dragged in' and presented him to no doubt squeals of delight. In not sure celebrities get much of a chance to mingle in such a way, what with George Clooney closing Venice for the day and so on, and it seems inevitable that they are pestered by twats: how much Russell might have enjoyed a bit of chitter chatter with some real dancers as, or just before, they took they clothes off. That's what you call a missed opportunity all round.
(Above: The White Horse as it was before the pole and the twenty first century. Photo by me)