Stephen Fry was was at my house. Stephen Fry was at my house? Is that right?

Yes, there he was sitting on the sofa talking to my niece AF about his role as the new front man for the latest Wispa advertising campaign.

I grabbed my purse, ran out the front door, dashed down to the corner shop, picked up and paid for a Wispa, then charged back home again. Now I had the perfect prop for a photo with Mr Fry.

It is impossible to relate the crushing disappointment of discovering that Stephen Fry had already left us. Even the charms of AF had not managed to keep him captive in the short time that I had been out the house.