I can understand some people following celebrities. But what I can't understand is their following me. I can wrack my brains but for the life of me, there isn't really much of interest to attract any famous brand so I am perplexed when I find myself in the midst of things.
Years ago, in September 1975, Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton stayed at the five-star Landdrost Hotel on Twist and Plein in Johannesburg, just before they wed for a second time in Botswana.
Reporters (there were no paparazzi in those days) swarmed when I was walking through Joubert Park.
Another time, I sat next to a well-known English actor at a school-reunion dinner but I couldn't understand why he was there. I didn't recall him being at my school. He told me his wife had been. Ah, explained.
The late Michael Hutchence was also at my school, it seemed, but again, I never knew that until he'd died.
I felt as if I was the only Muggle at a school for celebrities!
Over the years, there've been various neck-craning moments at airports when I've been elbowed aside and once, for a very brief moment, I nearly got to date one of Elizabeth Taylor's sons, but he never called.In 2016, the melee around the proximity of Donald Trump and Joe Biden nearly thwarted our dinner plans in New York.
And 2017 brought Miss England and her entourage to our Mauritius hotel: film crews, makeup and hair fiddlers, underwater cameramen and a bevy of very nice-looking young people.
Lights, cameras and action... and I'm in the pool... surfacing to find a beach ball bouncing around and lots of splashing - all being filmed from alongside and in the pool itself, cameras wrapped in special underwater protection.
Sweet young things dove and frolicked around me. For a moment, I wondered if I was going to awaken to the sounds of the surf and gentle laughter from the poolside, but no, I was in the midst of it all.
I gently glided along the side hoping to make a quiet exit without being filmed. Not that anyone was interested but it was uncomfortable to find myself smiling inanely at the camera as if I belonged there.
Scuba lessons then began with one youngster swimming effortlessly under the guidance of the instructor, cameraman filming his every movement. His strong, young muscles pulled him through the water, breathing regulated and then the camera picked up my thighs. Cut!Later, this lovely young crowd frolicked on the beach; two beauties lolled in the hammock strung between two palm trees. Miss England and her beau wafted gently in the breeze - not once did the hammock threaten to engulf them, like the sweet wrapper it had me, earlier in the day.
Off they pranced down the beach, no boiling-hot sand giving them blisters. Young feet flicked up the soft sprays of a million crushed seashells. They dipped and splashed water at each other, laughing in delight, the gentle waves lapping their tanned bodies. Miss England flicked back her hair and looked around. No haughty demeanour, her grin was as wide and sparkling as the diamante-capped wavelets.
She saw me watching and smiled. I smiled back and, with a little wave to me, she dove into the water, leaving her crown behind for a moment. She was just a girl in the sea.
• Do you have a funny or quirky story about your travels? Send 600 words to travelmag@sundaytimes.co.za and include a recent photograph of yourself for publication with the column...