Where: Young Vic
It wasn't a 7.30 start at last night's King Lear, oh no. 7.15 I needed to be on The Cut. And it was still really snowy and icy on the pavements. And I was running late, as usual.
Grabbing my press ticket, attempting some niceties with the PR people, I rushed to the door. General Admission; I'd been warned the press seats might no longer be available.
In front of me, a petite blonde with her mate was also flapping over the awkward timings, and the potential of missing a good seat. I knew it was Jane Horrocks from her profile. No idea why; perhaps I was just on celeb alert last night. When I made a little quip about being late, she turned and stared really pointedly at me. "Do I know you? Should I know you? Do you know me?" her stare seemed to ask. When it became clear the answer was no, she carried on with her friend.
The girl ushering took my ticket after theirs and ripped through it. Weirdly, she then handed me back two pieces of paper: my ticket, and Jane Horrocks' booking receipt, complete with address.
She lives in Twickenham.