I noted the other week that the problem with having been on TV many years ago, yet still being a largely unknown figure, is that you're not sure whether the people are approaching you in the street are people who have recognised you (usually as someone else as I've also noted) or just crazy people who talk to everyone and might be about to stab you in the neck with a knitting needle.
It can also lead one to misinterpret other elements of social interaction.
Today, scared as Hell about the approaching Marathon and disappointed that my beer/vodka/wine/yoghurt cocktail had not banished my fears, I popped into town to see if some non-grocery-based retail therapy would make the world seem better.
I bought a load of stuff that I didn't really need and it did indeed make me feel a bit happier, so I was walking down the street feeling a bit pleased with myself for having bought loads of new underwear and a fancy cork-screw (amongst other things, and again these two purchases were in no way connected to any perverse plans for the evening).
A couple of pretty young women were coming the other way and I distinctly noticed one of them checking me out. I smiled at her and felt all pleased with myself - obviously my new-ish hair cut and the vast amounts of exercise were paying off. I was still attractive enough to turn heads. I must have looked a bit smug, because she turned round and said, "It's all right, I know you're off the telly."
Damn, she hadn't been thinking I was attractive at all. She'd been thinking, look at that self-satisfied fat old man, looking at passersby in a pathetic attempt to get recognised. That wasn't what I'd been doing. I'd just been thinking about how much I'd like to have sex with her. My motivations were entirely honourable and self-less.
I would have been worried by the comment, but I was fairly sure she probably thought I was the bloke off Ready, Steady, Cook or the star of the hilarious sit-com "My Hero" or maybe Jono Coleman. But then her friend said, "Oh yeah, that Richard, Not Judy thing, innit?"
The "innit" there giving away the fact that we are from very different generations and making me feel even more like the dirty old man that I quite clearly am.
And I wasn't even going to be able to blame all this on Ardal O'Hanlon, as by some unlikely chance, despite the fact that they weren't overweight, male sci-fi fans with body odour issues in their late twenties, they knew exactly who I was.
"So what you up to these days?" asked the second girl from a bit further down the street, taking off any little glimmer of a shine that had remained on the experience. It didn't take much to read between the lines. She was merely emphasising what a long time ago it had been since she had seen me.
"Oh, this and that," I lied.
But it's nice to be remembered and a smile from a pretty girl is a wonderful prize, however it is won.
I am older than I once was, but younger than I'll be - that's not unusual.
