There were only a couple of times when I had to pinch myself that I was actually there, when meeting well known people.
The first was when my housemate, a painter, was having people round to view his work. I was then living in a large Victorian house in Streatham in south London, and my housemate was always having these little 'at homes'. It was a Sunday morning, and I'd been out the night before, arriving home at about eight, and fely like death. The house was filled with Mark's paintings, and people wandered all over, glass of wine in hand, to view them.
I was rudely woken by my bedroom door opening, and in marched the late actor Alan Bates, Sir Ian McKellen and Lord Montague of Beaulieu. They then all decided to sit on my bed, and ask why I wasn't up, where I'd been the night before, and did I want a drink.
Well they say the hair of the dog is good for you, so it turned into quiet a good day.
The second time I couldn't believe I was were I was, was in early 2000. I'd been invited by a friend to a dinner at the Carlton Club, in London's St. James. It turned out the dinner was upstairs in a private dining room, and there were eleven other diners besides myself, Margaret Thatcher being one of them!
Being a student in the eighties, Mrs Thatcher seemed to be the Devil incarnate. Indeed my own Dad theatened to leave the country prior to 1979, and we even went to look at a water ski-ing school in Italy, which he was going to buy if she ever came to power, thankfully my Mum wouldn't leave my Gran, so that came to nothing.
At the dinner I was sat right opposite Thatch, and I must confess she was most charming. She seemed genuinely interested in other people, and we talked about lots of things...but happily not politics.
I was quite giddy at being there, imaganing what Jill, a miner's daughter from south Yorkshire, and my best friend from art school, would say if she could see me.
All in all it was a very enjoyable evening. I did nearly make a major social faux pas. After the table had been cleared, the waiters brought out the port and lots of ashtrays. I was just about to light up, when someone announced that we could smoke after the Queen had been toasted. Being a republican, I just smiled as they pledged their allegiance, then happily lit up my fag.