Colour me a hob-nob

Painting started today. New plaster is extremely absorbent so we'd planned to slap on a couple of coats of cheap emulsion to prime the walls and ceiling before using the (vastly more expensive) final colour. The plasterer had also advised us to do this but he'd recommended white, whereas we were intending to use up the buckets of cheap magnolia we'd bought for the lounge. It's really awful stuff, slimy and thin, and it had taken four coats to cover the flame-effect rag rolling in the lounge. We were glad of the excuse to get rid of it. Not that it went on very well, slipping and sliding on the polished plaster surface and requiring very frequent reloading of the rollers. After five hours strenuous effort, we'd covered both ceilings and all of the walls in the smaller half of the room.

After dinner, we set off to a garden party to hob-nob with the in crowd. Annie is good friends with one of the stars of Coronation Street and we've been invited to her annual garden party for the last three years. The first year we had to miss out as it coincided with our holiday in Greece. Last year was a bit of a wash-out as it rained for much of the evening and we left early. This year though, the weather forecast was promising and we'd planned to go en-masse (well, seven of us) and better equipped than last year with chairs and plenty of food and drink. We also planned to arrive a little later than before. The party is arranged in two notional halves, with the late afternoon being primarily for those with children and the evening more for adults, although the lines aren't drawn very strictly. It's a laid-back affair where everyone just turns up, mingles, and does their own thing. We preferred to do our own thing when at least some of the kids had cleared off.

This year the event was very well attended by the Coronation Street cast. Jenny McAlpine, Tupele Dorgu, Kate Kelly, Rupert Hill and the guys who play the O'Connor brothers (sorry guys - I could have cheated and looked you up, but the truth is you've just not been on the show long enough for your names to impinge on my old brain) were all in evidence and there may have been more - I didn't really pay much attention. With my track record of celebrity interactions I try to steer clear of any chance of catching foot-in-mouth disease. Sadly, the same can't be said of many of the other attendees. Unlike last year when the stars were left very much to themselves, this year there was a preponderance of people jockeying to have their pictures taken with the hapless actors, who were really only out to enjoy the party and be left alone. I have to say they took it all in good part though, bravely enduring all the picture taking and autograph signing.

The highlight of last year's party for me had been meeting Brigit Forsyth, who I've been watching on TV for forty years or more. She was delightful but sadly didn't attend this year. Brigit you were missed!

I must admit in the end I couldn't help myself. Having had enough to drink to think this was a good idea, we'd gone looking for the face-painting crew only to discover they'd recently packed up and gone home. As we were milling about at the top of the stairs, Jenny McAlpine walked past.
"Hiya!" I said brightly.
"Hi!" she replied, sounding as much like Fiz as you'd expect.
"Seen anyone famous?" I joked.
She looked completely nonplussed, giggled nervously and beat a hasty retreat. Shame, I'm sure I would have enjoyed a normal conversation with her. Sadly I really don't think I'm capable of holding a normal conversation with a famous person.

Although we all had a good time, in one respect the evening was characterised by lost opportunity. The producer guy Annie knows was in attendance. I've been trying to get my (co-written) horror script in front of him for most of this year. This was the ideal opportunity, I thought, to meet face-to-face and gain his agreement to read it. We decided to leave it until after we'd eaten...by which time he'd left! Doh! I also failed to meet David Neilson ... again. After the karaoke was closed down at 12.30am I went for a quick comfort break, during which time he came over to say goodbye to Annie.
"That bloke with the beard is a great singer," he said to Annie.
"That's my mate John," says she, "he writes the lyrics for our songs."
"I'd love to meet him," says David, "but I have to leave right now."
So there you go. My best chance to hob-nob with a really interesting sleb - one with whom I certainly could hold a normal (and exceedingly interesting) conversation - and where am I?

In the toilet.