Well, as heartened as I am by the fact that you all got the key message of my last post, I'm also kind of stunned that not one of you picked up on the hot celebrity action that was going on in there!
I mean, really. There was a step class with Eartha Kitt and pool table action from the Cruise-Kidmans (or is that Cruise-Kidmen?). Does it get any better?
So, to punish you for this, I'm going to take you through a whistle-stop tour of my celebrity encounters. Stop reading now if you find Hello! magazine a bit basic...this post is as low-rent as it gets.
Firstly, there was the trip to Marrakech. At the British Airways VIP check-in, I was in line behind Benny from Abba, with his massive Swedish family - they were en-route to Stockholm, I imagine. Also on the Stockholm flight were Sven Goran Erikson and Nancy Dell'Olio, who said hello to me (it was difficult to ignore me, staring as I was). Nancy delivered on every front possible, she was glamourous, as jolie-laide as you'd imagine and kept cussing the poor skycap who had been charged with pushing her Vuitton.
On the return leg from Marrakech to Heathrow, I was sat in the row behind Sean Connery and his scary-looking wife. Really, she's a case of not knowing when to say stop to the plastic surgeon. It was very surreal, standing by the luggage belt at Heathrow, watching James Bond point out his luggage to the accompanying flunky.
For the Brit's amongst you, I was once sat next to Ken Barlow at a charity concert in Bridgewater Hall. He fell asleep. Not classy. I also once found myself queuing up with Felicity Kendall at Marks' on the Kings Road, Chelsea. We both had chocolate digestives in our baskets. We could be twins, you see.
When I got out of Marks' I bumped into a very rude man who told me to 'pay more attention'. It was Michael Portillo (looking scarily handsome). That same day, I sat at the table next to Bob Geldof at lunchtime. Sleb's are like buses, you don't see one for ages and then three come along....
I very nearly hit Jasper Carrott with my car when he ran out in front of me at Birmingham Internation Station once. That would have been no loss.
And I saw Alan Bennett and his partner checking out his own books in WHSmith at Gatwick. Not at all what I'd expected from him.
I sat next to Celia Imrie on a bus and saw Timothy West buying filth in a Chiswick newsagent. I crossed paths with Robin Cousins at St Katherine's docks once too. That was the day I saw Michelle Collins - Lord, she's rough.
I've filled up my car at the pump next to Grant Mitchell and I've followed Matt Lucas down the street with friends going 'it is him, it is, really'. Shameful.
Once, at the Air France VIP lounge at LAX I had to ask the noisy man behind me if he could possibly speak a little bit quieter. It was Antoine de Caunes. Very Eurotrash.
Bryan Ferry called by a friend's house while I was there once, and I've spoken on the phone to John Bon Jovi. I spent a sixteen-floor elevator ride in the company of Paul and Anita Keating. I only realised this when my Australian Colleague said 'So, how's it feel to be in the lift with the Prime Minister?'....
I nearly stopped the Queen's convoy going through Canberra once too. That one involved Police intervention and I'm not sure I'm allowed to say much, other than her Majesty looked beautiful in lilac.
There have been loads of others too, but I'm very mindful of my international audience - and they are already saying 'Grant Mitchell? Who he?'.
But there is one little bit of international glamour left. I give you Segolene Royale, days before she lost to Sarkozy. I ended up stood next to her for an impromptu media conference and photo session. She was beautiful, elegant and a true diplomat politician. She should have won. Which is all very well, but I still ended up missing my train.
Anyway, as much as it is funny to see these people out and about, it's not all that interesting beyond the hilarity of texting friends with a 'guess who I'm sat next to...' message. It's rare that anyone belives me anyway.
And not one of these star-spots beats sharing a step class with Eartha Kitt.