I stride in, fashionably late. I see a table with a big "MB" on it, especially for me. I head over to it, in my "Me, Me, Me" t-shirt, which is available from the Official Blog Merchandise store! Everyone turns to look. I get a note pad and pen shoved under my nose. "Turn this way!!" - flash!!! - a camera bulb goes off. I begin to sign my name on the notepad for an adoring fan, when I realise that he does not want my autograph, merely my blog's URL.

I sit down and try and pick up the conversation, when I heard "And I don't see why anyone should have a problem with saggy boobs!". I must be in the company of fellow bloggers. Conversation ebbed and flowed including the commercialisation of football, radical feminism, "pimping your blog", the trappings of being famous and yet anonymous and the three striped effect that Kro managed to get in their lattes.

"You know, I thought you were a woman at first MB." I do not know how to take this. I'm not sure if that is a good or a bad thing. I would like to be offended, just because I'm the sort of person who likes to take offence but it is very difficult. "And I can see why they said you looked like Peter Crouch!"

Oooooh, the United game is kicking off soon, we leave and make plans to return later.

"I know who the celebrity guest was!" said my Canadian Girlfriend in her sumg know-it-all but kinda cute way.

"You mean it wasn't me?" I say placing my hands on my hips. I stop and stand firmer than Anne Robinson's botox-ed forehead. This is not a wise move since it is raining and we're in the middle of Picadilly Gardens.

"It was <<insert name of someone who is famous in the blogging world>>!"

"Who?" I replied.

"<<repeat name of someone who is famous in the blogging world>. That's <<mention name of someone I vaguely recall hearing of>'s <<insert relationship>." I stare back blankly. "We'll google her when we get home."

We retire to eat Pizza and Garlic Bread while listening to United, the house is warm, My Canadian Girlfried is proved to have correctly identified the mystery guest and there's Olympics on the telly. We do not make the second leg.