I bought a book and queued. We'd both had books recently published. As usual her TV presence meant she'd sold more. She or her agent hadn't replied to my emails suggesting we meet up here. I edged forward rehearsing versions of what I had to say. Remember the flat we shared, escapades we had, the time...? I begin as she reaches for my copy, continue as head down she begins signing; and hands back book with a smile, reaches for the next with blank celebrity aplomb. Maybe a scribbled message? But no, signature, best wishes and date. Book binned.