Becoming a Local Celebrity.

Right, then; back to imagined reality.

The journalist came this afternoon to talk to me about my UFO sighting. She was a pleasant, free-thinking sort of woman who talked to me about all sorts of things – including her own UFO sighting, coincidentally in the very neighbourhood where I grew up.

Then she asked me whether I’d like to be interviewed for a sort of local-people-who-are-a-bit-interesting slot. Am I a bit interesting? I wouldn’t have thought so. Odd, maybe.

I haven’t decided whether I’ll do it yet. What worries me is that they might include a picture, and then somebody might recognise me in Ashbourne High Street and accost me as strangers are wont to do in that situation, and I might feel moved to counter with ‘Say, from whence you owe this strange intelligence, and why upon this blasted heath you stop our way,’ and the poor benighted person wouldn’t have a clue what I was talking about and would run around the town shrieking that there’s a madman on the loose, and then the good burghers would fasten me in the stocks and I’d be pelted with horse droppings until nightfall.

I exaggerate, of course. There are probably lots of people in Ashbourne who’ve read Macbeth. So maybe I will.