Ten years ago - or maybe more - a very young cmf featured in a Fringe show directed by B S Neill. The Sisterhood. An adaptation of a Moliére play by Mr Ranjit Bolt. I can sadly remember the T-shirts more than I can remember the show. (T-shirts = white, pink and black design, cute cut-out-paper-girl design motif. Show = Riddles Court, upstairs room, not much space behind the curtains that equated to wings, I kissed a man who sweated enthusiastically.)

But this morning, bus stop. (Location of all scenes of substance in my life.) Sitting on a bench in the thinking about sun. And a "Claire?" And goodness me, there's...

Declan. Who played... something in The Sisterhood. I've bumped into him a few times over the intervening years and he now appears to live about three streets away from me. He's shed one job since I saw him last which must have been a couple of years ago - I think I thrust a flyer at him then too - and begun another. But we mostly bickered about the Olympics. And marvelled at how much work Liam Rudden gets through.

Until he suddenly, disturbingly, said: "I liked your piece in the Evening News. I thought then I must see your Fringe show. So this is a great reminder."

I broiled with shame as the trying to come out sun beat through the window of the bus.

To compound the shame, one of my new work colleagues - who's not been in the office Since The Article - cried out in front of a whole group of people that might - maybe - still think I'm relatively normal; "I loved that Evening News article about you last week!!" I launched into an apology. But the damage was done.

I don't think I'd make a good celebrity.