My dreams are remarkably vivid and often contain surprising elements that sometimes don't seem possible.
Anyway, on this occasion I am having a few drinks with Ladi Di outside a very pleasant pub somewhere in London. She is on the gin and tonics and, as it is a sunny day I'm having the same. Poor old Di is telling me that she wishes she could do ordinary things that ordinary people do. She finds it very frustrating that she has to live in a bubble of publicity and can't just do normal everyday things.
I ask her to give me an example and she says that, just once, she would like to be a tourist and go and see the sights. She would love to take one of those Thames river cruises, for example.
I point out that she seems to be getting away with sitting outside this rather pleasant typical London pub so why don't we just go for it and book a trip. I have never been on a cruise on the Thames either, so it would be a new experience for both of us.
Soon enough we find ourselves sitting at the stern of a delightful vessel as it cruises past the South Bank and the Houses of Parliament and under Tower Bridge.
(This bit is quite odd because I really have never been on a Thames boat trip, but I ccan see both banks of the river perfectly from the perspective of a boat on the water.)
It is a lovely day and Di is still on the G&Ts, whilst I have discovered that the barge stocks Newcastle Brown Ale, so I am taking advantage of the fact.
It is a beautiful day, quite sunny but not too hot thanks to the breeze from the river. Then Di starts giving it the old 'nobody understands me'; 'My husband just ignores me' routine and goes into the pathetic faux-puppy looking up under fluttering eyelids routine.
'Now look,' I say: 'We have been having a lovely time and you have been delightful company so far. You have really enjoyed being a normal tourist on a traditional tourist trip, so please don't go and spoil it with the old fluttering eyelids lost kitten stuff.'
'I'm terribly sorry,' says Di. 'I lost myself for a minute there. Sometimes I can't help myself, it has got to be such a habit. Look it's my round so what are you having? Another one of those Newcastle Browns?'
'Yes please,' I reply. Don't forget to get me a pint glass - I'm not a geordie after all.'
'No problem,' says Di, 'I think I might try one myself.'
And so she does. 'This is delicious!' Says Di. 'I don't know why I've never tried it before.' We spend the rest of the day having a few Broons and seeing the sights (admittedly mostly the sights inside typical touristy London pubs). Time marches on and we share a taxi home.
The taxi pulls up outside Di's place and she says: 'Thank you for a lovely afternoon, I'm so glad you shook me out of my old routine. Would you like to pop in for a coffee or something'
'Well that's very kind of you,' I reply, but having read the newspapers recently, you have been putting it about a bit lately and I can't be sure what you have been up to, or who with. So I will decline your generous offer on this occasion, if that's OK with you.'
'Of course,' replies Di, 'I see your point, I have been living it fast and loose lately. I'll see you then. And thanks again for the day out.'
And Di gets out of the taxi and heads off home. I wait and make sure that she gets in safely and head off myself in the cab. On the way home I realise that she hasn't given me any money for the taxi fare. Typical!