I'm just saying my goodbyes to Arsenal Fan - who I've popped in to see at the end of his lunch break given that I have found myself free after a meeting in South East London - when a lady carrying lots of shiny things approaches. Clearly this is what is going to happen to me when I am older - hanging around arts centres with glittery, shiny things. I am sure there are worse ways to spend my dotage.
"I'm returning the scissors" Shiny Lady explains.
Ah, now I wouldn't do that given that I am a kleptomaniac. Shiny Lady has one up on me.
I smile and realise that Shiny Lady is looking directly at me.
"Are you the baby massage teacher?" she asks.
There's a moment of total silence as both Arsenal Fan and I process this. I know I'm wearing a pashmina and bangles but -
(Obviously I am not stereotyping what a baby massage teacher would look like - given that I have never met one I do not know - but I suspect they wouldn't look like me)
It is as stark as that because there simply are no words.
"Well, I'm looking for the baby massage teacher".
I wonder exactly why Shiny Lady is so keen to find this person.
"Are you a teacher?"
Clearly Shiny Lady is not going to be deflected that easily and I am clearly going to be forced to teach her something. Non-stalking tactics? The links between The Waste Land and Hotel Du Lac? How to 'acquire' novel items from bars? I am not sure any of this will do.
I settle instead for shaking my head and hoping that she doesn't push the issue and force me into the blog-worthy but life-traumatic situation of demonstrating baby massage on her.