2005-07-15 - 1:40 p.m.

I was walking back over Jubilee Bridge the other day from, well, let�s just call it an appointment. I had my earphones in and was about half way through rockstar fantasy #347a, in which the lead singer of Tindersticks falls ill at the Glastonbury Festival a few minutes before their headline slot, and I happen to be walking by when someone asks, �If only we had someone who knew all the songs�. In 347b, I eventually replace him, steer the band to their first number one album and share a jaccuzzi with several up and coming independent film actresses.

I was rudely interrupted by an overly made-up woman waving a camera in my face. The problem with using this bridge is that you have to duck and weave around the billion tourists taking pictures of the Eye, Westminster and the like, not that I�m ever in a hurry, but anyway. I yanked out my earphones, and the woman, who looked like she�d come out of a wedding reception in 1987 to take a few snaps and never found her way back, asked in a thick Eastern European accent if I would mind taking her picture.

Not having anything else to do, I obliged, suddenly aware that I was now part of the problem, tutting suits flouncing past as if I was ruining their day by pointing a camera across their walking route. I lined it up carefully, making sure Big Ben wasn�t pointing out of the top of her head like a big clocky tumour or anything, and waited until we got a clear run so that she wouldn�t be obscured by a passing jogger, though crueller readers may have agreed that that was quite a good look for her.

Anyway, I did the necessary and she thanked me. She did this without looking at me, engrossed as she was on the screen of her digital camera. Well, she just wants to check it, I thought, but I knew it had come out alright as a review picture came up as soon as I had taken it.

I started walking home, and was about to resume my daydream at the point where I jump off the monitors into the adoring crowds, when a head niggle told me to turn. I�m not one to ignore a head niggle, so I did. And there�s miss pastel shades 2005 asking SOMEONE ELSE to retake the photo in the EXACT SAME SPOT. Talk about a kick in the photographic gonads. I�m no expert, sure, but when you only have to get two things in the picture, and you succeed in doing so, it�s hard to imagine any improvement on that picture.

Unless she was doing it as a way to meet men and just realised I was too ugly. Which is fine, of course.