2002-04-24 - 4:33 p.m.

On Sunday afternoon, and I clearly remember this as I was only on my second pint of Guinness, and the sun was shining down on the first outside drinking session of the nascent summer, I had a twenty-minute conversation with a girl � a housemate of a friend, just making smalltalk as we were sat next to each other at the wooden table. She was Italian. Her name was Rita. She was quite distinctive looking. We talked about travelling � at the weekend, she was/is going to Mexico with her boyfriend, I was/am off to the Isle of Wight to meet my watery grave in the cold, unforgiving Solent sea, victim of an unsafe dinghy and laughable seamanship. It wasn�t exciting or particularly memorable, but, and I can�t stress this enough, I REMEMBER DOING IT.

Yesterday I was walking around the local neighbourhood, skulking in newsagents, trying not to get beaten up by crack addicts, that kind of thing, when who should be merrily strolling along towards me, but Rita. And I can�t stress this enough, but it was UNMISTAKEABLY HER. So, genial man about town that I sometimes can be, I offer a cheery �Hello Rita� as she approaches. I have never seen an innocent salutation result in the abject terror that it somehow conjured up. She�s speechless, backing away. My sudden, panicked attempts to help her remember me (�Er, we met in the pub the other day � you live with my friend��) are received like I�m nervously brandishing a loaded firearm and fiddling with the safety catch. She�s edging round the pavement to get by me saying �No. No. You do not know me!�, shielding herself with her shopping bags from�what? Polite conversation? And she�s off down the street, leaving me in her wake, looking and feeling like some kind of sordid sex pest.

The only explanations I can think of are that: she has a neurotic twin sister, who is also called Rita; one of us has gone insane in the interim between our chance encounters or she was on some clandestine drugs / international espionage operation and was denying she knew me for my own protection. Either way, now that even casual acquaintances are giving me grief on the streets of this neighbourhood, I�m thinking it�s definitely time to move.