God! If I saw Ralph Fiennes walking down the street the people walking behind me would have to step over my prostrate and unconscious body.
I’ve seen Bill Nighy in Soho; Hermione Norris and Graham Norton (twice) in Selfridges; Danny Baker on Piccadilly; the actor who plays the Independent sports hack in Ted Lasso in Liverpool Street tube station; a former England manager opened the door for me with a nice smile in Fenwicks on Bond Street last year but I can’t remember his name and DH, who recognised him, is snoring beside me. I’ve seen Gordon Ramsey down Bond Street. We were sat at a table near Rio Ferdinand with his children, then girlfriend and other family at Wildfire in Vilamoura pre Covid and I crossed paths with a very orange Bradley Walsh at Julia’s Beach in Vale de Lobo.
We were sat opposite Rosy Millard on Hull Trains when Hull was City of Culture. She was just lovely. She was dashing off an X words article on the train.
Lucy Beaumont and Jon Richardson and their then baby were rather awkwardly corralled in a small area with us and disabled DD2 at Leeds Bradford Airport. They can’t have had a functioning VIP area at the time. She was lovely and chatty, he was very reserved (no criticism) in a pulled down baseball cap. They were going to Menorca as were we.
The craziest was staying in the Ritz Carlton in Singapore during the Grand Prix where we had very close encounters with Daniel Riccardo, Christian Horner and Rosberg; and fascinatingly we sat next to Ecclestone and the next owners of F1 at breakfast and eavesdropped on a highly confidential and interesting discussion of future plans, including locations for future additional US Grand Prix. The jewellery we saw women wearing in that hotel was jaw dropping. Sadly Hamilton was staying elsewhere; he’s my favourite.