Followed by another strange man, making an accidental w*nking sign, and hiding my ruffled bum from a photographer

Sweet baby Jesus and the angels, it's been two weeks! It wasn't intentional; life as usual is pulling my pants down and giving me a slap. I tell you, much as I love being self-employed, time just seems to disappear and I'm constantly busy!

Anyway...so today I'm in Waitrose with the bambino when I get approached by a tall black guy as I debate whether to get some mini banofee pies.

"Hi...sorry to bother you...but do I know you from somewhere?" he asks eagerly.
Dragging my eyes away from the banofees, I reply "Umm...no...I don't think so...."
"I'm sure we do...I think we've met..." he says hurriedly and launches into lots of made up stuff about how he thinks he knows me, asking if I lived in central London before, and insisting he knows me.
"No...really we haven't met before..." I had never laid eyes on him. At this point the bambino cranes her head around the pushchair and scowls at him.
"Ah...cute baby! But seriously, I'm sure I know you. I saw you crossing the road outside and I followed you into the store...I mean I er...."
"You followed me into the store?" I said backing away. What is it with strange men following me?
"Well...no...I..er..well I thought I knew you and I was coming in here anyway. Look, I don't want to keep you if you have somewhere to go" but he didn't actually move.
"Um...yeah.. I have somewhere to go.." and then he just starts asking me lots of questions.

Do I like England? Is my partner white? Am I still with my partner? and many more questions, which I either didn't answer or gave vague responses. It was an awkward situation where I didn't know what to do next without being really rude or giving him another opportunity to follow me.

I think he noticed that I was disinterested because he made a beeline for the bambino who scowled at him again and then started bawling her eyes out.

"Look, I have to go. I really don't know you and I have to go!" I said firmly and I grabbed the handles of the pushchair purposefully.

"OK, well it was nice talking to you!" and he scuttled away.

Then my CSI/Columbo/Jessica Fletcher hat went on and I became curious about what this mofo was up to, so I waited a couple of seconds and then the bambino and I followed in pursuit. I checked the first couple of aisles and there was no sign of him and I moved onto the meat aisle where I needed to grab some chicken anyway, and he was looking seriously shady peeking out from the end of the aisle. I quickly grabbed up the chicken and studied it furiously, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him walk by me hurriedly, pretending not to see me. I waited a couple of seconds and then I made a beeline for the end of the aisle, just in time to see him leaving the store sans any shopping!

Me thinks this crackerjack followed me!

Honestly, what is it with strange men approaching me? I thought having a baby was supposed to ward them off!

In other dodgy news, I spent the morning in my clients office a couple of weeks ago and I met one of the directors for the first time. He was very charming and jokey and was making a lot of random jokes that you sort of tee-hee-hee along to politely and he asked me what the sign was when you want a waiter to bring you water. It was all over in seconds but I felt myself raise my arm in an uncontrollable movement that can only be described as the wanking (masturbation for US readers) sign. Everyone froze and I went puce right down to my toes and lost the power of speech! As everyone fell around laughing, he gave me one of those amused looks that says 'diiiiirrrrrttttyyyyy girl' - really I'm not!

In even more dodgy news, I was interviewed for the Daily Mail (No, I don't read it before anyone asks!) last week about Baggage Reclaim for a feature they're doing about women who use the internet to write about their relationships. They were definitely looking for a revenge angle so I'm sure they were sorely disappointed when it became clear that it was more about entertainment (God it seems like ages ago when I used to take the piss out of dates) and understanding myself, and also about empowering other women.

The photographer came around on Thursday and I was told that I couldn't wear my jeans because the Daily Mail like skirts and dresses. Fortunately I had a Calvin Klein dress (thank you lovely US exchange rate!) and I slipped into it and put on some heels for the first time in ages. I got back downstairs to make some tea for the photographer and for some reason patted my arse and realised I was wearing knickers with a bit of a ruffle on the arse. Panicked I realised that I would have to hide my arse till I got a chance to run upstairs and change, so cue me making tea and walking sideways and backwards around the kitchen as we chatted. To give credit where credit's due, he didn't notice my odd behaviour; either that or he had the good grace to pretend....