It's not all about me after all

WAS anyone in Felixstowe at the weekend?Well I can tell you it was absolutely glorious. The sea was calm, the sun bright and spring was in the air - one of those precious weekends I didn't want to end.

WAS anyone in Felixstowe at the weekend?

Well I can tell you it was absolutely glorious.

The sea was calm, the sun bright and spring was in the air - one of those precious weekends I didn't want to end.

And for an almost-celebrity-wanna-be-but-not-really it's all been a bit of a social whirl.

I decided to have a supper party in my small Edwardian flat with sea views (distant) in the Edwardian seaside resort on Saturday evening.

And do you know I ran out of wine, well sort of.

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As we nibbled on nibbles with a glass or two of sparkling rose to get us in the mood, I realised I had plenty of red wine but not much white. Typically no one wanted red.

After scouring the kitchen I discovered a bottle of German white wine - well what a faux pas, I mean who drinks that nowadays?

Now it's all Australian and South African so-called “easy drinking” in the shops isn't it.

But it wasn't so long ago, and you may remember, that a bottle of Blue Nun and a prawn cocktail were the height of sophistication - or at least so my mum tells me - and this German wine wasn't awful at all. I was pleasantly surprised and everyone else was polite enough to agree.

But I can't talk about me this week.

Not again.

I'll get complaints and be told that my creative output relies solely on me me me and I don't want to be selfish, well not much.

So I've been back to basics and out reporting on the streets of Ipswich, really to prove that I can remember my shorthand outlines and that I haven't forgotten there is a world out there with several other people in it.

And do you know, dear readers, not far from the Evening Star office there is, in St Nicholas Street, a shop that I have always wanted to investigate.

Fittingly, for a man who truly is self aware and never once been accused of altruism, it's called All About Me.

Owner of the All About Me ladieswear and accessories store Hayley Townsend, 29, said All About me isn't named after me at all.

Hayley said: "It's hard to name a shop. We wanted something quirky. My brother-in-law came up with it and I loved it.

"It sums up our ethos of shopping for girls who deserve a bit of pampering. Shopping is what girls do best."

Well that's that then. It's not all about me at all. Not even a little bit, well at least I haven't talked about me.

How strange.

My celebrity fanbase is growing ever so steadily - honest.

The other evening, as I was heading home for a refreshing Dubonet and lemonade and the six o'clock news, I met a couple of ladies in an Ipswich petrol station called Tracy and Stacey and, as I bought a packet of Hula Hoops and ten Silk Cut, they enlightened me to the fact that they are big fans.

Tracy, who seemed surprised to see me and somewhat taken aback - a most natural response I'm sure - said: "Oh James, I wondered if I'd ever see you in here. I do like your column you are funny."

A remark which annoyingly left me speechless and totally unable to think of anything funny to say at all.

This incident was preceded by a letter received last week from a friendly lady called Tricia who I met at the banana counter in the Felixstowe branch of Morrisons a little while ago.

She wrote:

Dear Mr Marston,

Thank you for mentioning our chance encounter in a well-known supermarket with dock views (semi-distant).

My 13-year-old niece was most impressed, as it was her fruit intake that meant we were anywhere near the bananas!

Anyway, you now have two more fans in Sydney New South Wales….

Wasn't that nice of her?

And on Sunday, as I was taking in the sea air with my blonde (almost natural) friend Deborah from Bury St Edmunds, a lady who I'd never met pointed at me and said she knew who I was - "that boy from the Evening Star". I agreed that I was who I am and she seemed pleased.

I suppose it's better than being mistaken for a my broadcaster friend Mark Murphy of Radio Suffolk fame- something that has on occasion happened -who is much, much, much, much older than me and even has an ugly mug he hands out to listeners. I'm counting myself lucky.

For all those families out there I have a little tip. How do you make your children eat sprouts - get them to grow their own. Apparently it always works. Obvious isn't it?

It's all ever so exciting at the Ipswich most Operatic and even more Dramatic Society at the moment.

My friend Sue, who has been in the shows for more that 40 years so knows a thing or two, and I have been teamed up to do a little bit of dialogue.

We have to shout a few lines at each other ever so loud during one of the scenes. I've never had a speaking part, usually playing fat boy at the back without much to do.

Anyway, Simon, the director and IODs big wig, said he needed a big lad to fill the gap and I fit the bill nicely, you see.

Of course, I'm going to be awfully nervous and frightened but it should be fun nonetheless.

Sue's taking it all in her stride.

So what are your holiday plans this year?

Not having too much hair, my thick locks are most annoyingly thinning, it's not a question I get asked too much.

But I were I would have to say no plans. I'm not sure where to go. For those travelling alone the world is my oyster but I'm tempted to go to Scotland as I've never been. If you have any suggestions let me know.

Oh my goodness. I bought a DVD the other day.

Not an event that's shocking in itself but the film that caught my attention was The Exorcist and that was shocking.

For those of you who live alone you'll know what I mean when I say that living alone and watching horror movies isn't always a happy combination.

For three days I thought I was going to be possessed, my bedroom would become very cold and I would either start talking in a funny voice or rise from my bed in the afternoons.

I think its best if I stick to a Miss Marple in the future.

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