‘I can see your knees,’ my friend, Natasha, said as we were leaving for Henley Royal Regatta. We’d been told that the dress code rules were strictly enforced so there was a last minute change from a pink silk Paul Smith dress into a full-length green jersey cotton Melissa Odabash number.

We were guests of a couple of guys we’d met at City Rocks, who came to meet us at the entrance of the Stewards’ Enclosure (apparently there’s a 12-year waiting list for membership for the Enclosure). ‘We’d better watch a race now,’ one of the guys said. ‘Because we won’t be watching any more.’ He was right.

As we approached the bar we spotted Gentleman, while the guys saw a couple of their friends. We overheard the conversation getting competitive between Gentleman and one of the guys. ‘I dated Naomi Campbell,’ we caught Gentleman saying. ‘I dated Zoe Ball,’ said the other guy. He continued, ‘how did you get in?’. Gentleman pointed to his son’s 20-year-old friend, Harry, who was picking his nose. That stopped the banter.

I let Gentleman know about my latest exploits with Graffiti Boy, ‘hardly the doctor/surgeon/lawyer/politician. But much more fun, I imagine. Have I corrupted you?’
A few days later I got into a ridiculous BBM conversation with GB while he was in the Hamptons. From what I could make out he was in a high-speed car chase from paparazzi with some actors – everyone was wasted. It was difficult to understand what he was saying (‘trzzzzzzzzzyg’ was one message) and I needed to get on with work, ‘Time out! xx’
‘F**k you. Why are you judging me?’ It was swiftly followed by an apology, an ‘I miss you’ and ‘I wish you were here right now.’ It was probably just as well I wasn’t.

I relayed the conversation to my mum. She asked a few more questions about his work and background. ‘He sounds interesting,’ she said. ‘He can obviously get it together to be a successful artist and to travel a lot. I’d like to meet him.’