.and now on Twitter I can. But you know, it's a weird thing - if I tweet someone who is famous in some way I feel quite nervous and embarrassed. It's akin to the feeling I would have if I saw a famous actor in a restaurant say and wanted to ask for an autograph. Actually not a good example because that's something I would never do - firstly because I hate invading someone else's privacy, also because I would be too shy and finally because I think autographs are...er, I don't know.I'm even quite shy of writing on fan pages on FB, it doesn't fit too well with me. I don't want to be a nuisance and although I know that these people probably never look at their FB pages and probably read only 1% of their tweets anyway, I still get that uncomfortable apologetic feeling.
I really like to think that if I was stuck in a lift with a celebrity or ended up sitting next to them on a plane that I wouldn't say 'Oh my god I cannot believe it's you' I remember reading in Michael Jackson's autobiography years ago how this used to amuse him and he would say something like '..why not, I have to be somewhere in the world, why not here?'. I can relate to that. Of course in my dreams there would be a witty, informative entertaining conversation but knowing myself profoundly I suspect there would just be silence on my part. I'm not a great twitterer for the same reason that I'm not a really active blogger or FBooker, I often lack commitment and quite often lack courage. I feel terrible if I don't give everyone my attention and although I know that probably doesn't matter to them, it racks me with guilt. I once had a virtual chihauha ( yeah I know that's spelled wrong and look at me going with americanised 'spelled') on FB and taking care of it worried me so much I had to give it up. Boh.
It occurs to me that outside of my previous work obligations, I have never actually had a celebrity encounter of the close kind.. Now that George Clooney is dating Elisabetta Canalis, it is actually possible that he could turn up in Alghero at some point - I hope I don't end up bumping into him anywhere - what the hell would I say?
And I especially hope Stef wouldn't be with me, because I can tell you, he wouldn't be backward in coming forward oh no.
Our car passed it's Mot again this week - it must be about 18 years old by now and it just flies through -I swear it's going to outlive us and damnit, that chocolate brown Fiat 500 with the cream interior is destined to remain just a dream.
Unless we win the lotto of course but then Stef says he's getting a Ferrari.But that's entirely another story.
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