Neglected to mention that before afternoon tea at Theatre Royal, I scheduled a late lunch with Antoine at Boswell's in Covent Garden. How very Waughian of me. Sounds like a day with the Vile Bodies set.

Before we begin on Witch's society Saturday, let me describe Antoine for you.

Ok. Tall, blonde (I know, it's looking good already), with an interestingly pale opaqueness to his complexion and a face so ornamental you could rope it off and sell tickets for it, Antoine wasn't 'overlooked in the looks department', if you follow me. Why haven't I gone there, you might be forgiven for asking, if he's so gorgeous?

One word: G.A.Y.

Oh no, wait... that's just where he goes on a Saturday night. Still, it should clear up any confusion.

I meet Antoine outside the station and he is talking to a pretty blonde - a girl I know from, oh God, I can't remember... well, from somewhere. It'll come to me later. We share the usual showbiz chat, all carefully avoiding the fatal phrase "So, what are you doing at the moment?" - just in case the answer's "Nothing." So dangerous. I see a dance shoe sticking out of her bag and think I'll risk it. Turns out my instinct's right - she's in rehearsals for a show. Phew.

After a couple of minutes of this I see my friend The Boy (more on him later) approaching. Boy greets both Antoine and me and then says to the pretty girl:

"Hi! How are you?"

She replies appropriately and inquires after Boy's health.

"I'm great, thanks. Where do I know you from?"

She replies appropriately and the issue is neatly resolved. It doesn't solve my problem - I still can't remember where I know her from, but I've been standing there for nigh on fifteen minutes by now and it's too late to ask.

"How funny that we're all here," says The Boy. "Next thing you know, there'll be a whole gathering of West End Wend - Hi!" he adds, as along trots yet another Wendy; this time male, gorgeous (enough to give Antoine a run for his money), known by each of us.

The new Wendy greets us all.

"I know we've met," he says to the pretty girl, "but I can't put my finger on where."

Pretty girl can't remember either. I feel slightly better.

With a promise to call The Boy later, and several mwa mwas, I depart with Antoine for Boswell's.

"Well, that was weird," I say, disentangling my scarf from my string of pearls. "All of us meeting there like that. Maybe there's something in the air, some magnetic force at work."

"Or maybe it's me," says Antoine casually. I raise an eyebrow.

"You?"

"Maybe it's my cosmic pull."

I would laugh, but knowing Antoine, it's probably true.

"You're saying that everyone fancies you?" I smirk.

"I'm just saying it's a possibility. Like the laws of attraction. What do you think?"

Privately I don't believe the laws of attraction have anything to do with Antoine's chiseled looks, but I decide not to let on.

"Attracted to you? What, like flies to s**t?"

"Or gays to the sun," he replies. "Come on, they're waiting for me at Boswell's."