So, we get off the subway and were walking back to our apartment this afternoon, and a block from our front door we walk past the stage door to the Letterman Show. We have seriously been thinking of going: they tape in the afternoon, then you watch yourself on TV that night, apparently.
Anyway, there were crowds of folk, and photographers, and big black cars. J and I are on one side of the street; P with his big camera lining up with all the others, looking very professional.
And who should come out, but Matthew Perry from Friends. AND ... I recognise him! He looks around briefly, and I observe a neat jacket and rather a lot of hair (I saw an ad the other day for some kind of hair-thickener that coats your hair with texture, a bit like fuzzy iron filings: all the stars use it, apparently!). There's a riotous click of cameras, and he's off, closely followed by a small blonde woman who we hear is on the new series of 24. The convoy of cars pulls away, and things start to quieten down, and then we see two big men with big sheets of paper (for autographs?) calling, "Quick! Perry's stopped at the red," and they race off. We say, but already I know we won't, that we'll walk past every day at 5.30 to see who's in town.