I

can understand some people following celebrities. But what I can’t understand is their following me. I can wrack my brains but for the life of me, there isn’t really much of interest to attract any famous brand so I am perplexed when I find myself in the midst of things.

Years ago, in September 1975, Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton stayed at the fivestar Landdrost Hotel on Twist and Plein in Johannesburg, just before they wed for a second time in Botswana.

Reporters (there were no paparazzi in those days) swarmed when I was walking through Joubert Park.

Another time, I sat next to a well-known English actor at a school-reunion dinner but I couldn’t understand why he was there. I didn’t recall him being at my school. He told me his wife had been. Ah, explained.

The late Michael Hutchence was also at my school, it seemed, but again, I never knew that until he’d died.

I felt as if I was the only Muggle at a school for celebrities! Over the years, there’ve been various neck-craning moments at airports when I’ve been elbowed aside and once, for a very brief moment, I nearly got to date one of Elizabeth Taylor’s sons, but he never called.

In 2016, the melee around the proximity of Donald Trump and Joe Biden nearly thwarted our dinner plans in New York.

And 2017 brought Miss England and her entourage to our Mauritius hotel: film crews,