I met Wendy Richard today...

I was in London today for a business meeting. Nothing unusual about that, nor about the fact that, since the meeting finished early, we decided to repair to the pub around the corner for lunch. Come to think of it that is quite unusual. It would have been only the second time I'd visited that particular establishment, but the second time will have to wait: it was closed for refurbishment.

Following closely on the heels of Nic, who knows the local pubs in the same way as he knows everything else - thoroughly - we dashed around the corner into an alternative pub and ordered pints. As I turned to find a seat who should be standing next to me at the bar but Wendy Richard, aka the recently deceased Pauline Fowler from EastEnders.

It was at that point I turned into a gibbering wreck. I don't know what it is about being "around" famous people, but I don't cope with it very well. It's almost as if I'm trying to prove something. Along the lines of "I know you're famous but that doesn't cut any ice with me so I'm just going to treat you like anyone else and act completely normal and definitely not all fawning and star-struck." Only I don't act normal at all. I go completely the other way - wayyyyyyy too pally and sociable. Because even though I'm from the "friendly" North I just do not walk up to complete strangers at a bar and strike up a conversation as if we've known each other for years. But I did with Wendy. Not even a "hello, nice to meet you," or a "my name's John," or anything else that remotely resembled social graces. With no consideration of the fact that she probably just wanted to sit at the bar and have a quiet drink, I just sauntered up and asked "so what's next for you?"

I felt like Baby Houseman from Dirty Dancing where she meets Johnny Castle for the first time and says "I carried a watermelon."

Wendy removed her coat with infinite grace and replied politely "you can't have been watching much television over Christmas dear," referring presumably to the EE special that had been on which I expect covered something about the work she had lined up. No, I hadn't seen it, I admitted. She went on to tell me that she'd been on some breakfast programme and was about to do a spot on Wogan's radio show, but I wasn't really listening. I was already mortified at my presumption and looking to make my escape. One of the others asked me to order another drink and I gratefully turned around to address the barmaid. Wendy went back to her paper.

I couldn't leave it there though, could I? What would she think of me? So as I turned and walked past her with two drinks in my hands I said: "forgive me - us Northerners just strike up conversations without a by-your-leave." Wendy was ready for me again: "I'm from Middlesborough myself dear, so I quite understand." More embarrassment! Clearly if I'd been a real fan, I'd have known she was from oop t'North.

I sat down, reflecting on my total lack of social skill. I remember meeting Bryan Pringle in the Trip to Jerusalem one lunchtime many, many years ago. Bryan, most famous to me in those days for playing the part of 'Cheese and Egg' in a TV comedy called the Dustbinmen, had been appearing in a play at the Nottingham Playhouse and had also sought refuge in the pub. I spotted him when I was just about to leave the bar. "Hello Bryan!" I yelled, as if he was the long-lost best mate from my childhood, and when he smiled and said hello I beat a hasty retreat to the other side of the pub. Clearly I'd learned nothing about how to handle celebrity in the intervening 30+ years.

Next time I see someone famous I'll just nod and smile. Then they'll only suspect I'm simple minded - I won't have proved it.