She said she was in Robert Dyas in Chiswick (have no idea why as she is the last person to be doing a spot of DIY). And she said she had been standing in the aisle admiring the cleaning products (aahh, that's why she was there) when Javier Bardem walked past her towards the check out.
A new celebrity hotspot
Now call me cynical, but I'm pretty sure Javier Bardem a) wouldn't be in Chiswick on a Tuesday and b) would definitely not be in Robert Dyas if he was. The whole thing just didn't add up. So I emailed her a Google image of Javier and sure enough it wasn't him.
She is now trawling through the internet to find out who the mysterious Spanish man was, as she is convinced he is famous. I think she will be a while.
I see famous people
My husband suffers from this affliction. I call it "I See Famous People" Syndrome. The amount of times he has nudged me and pointed at someone he thinks is famous, but on closer inspection bears only a fleeting resemblance to that person...
Recently he claimed to have seen Brian Blessed (turned out to be a tramp); Lady Gaga (a transvestite) and Cindy Crawford (in his dreams - literally).
Identifying the real deal
However, nowadays I think it gets harder to identify a real celebrity. Take for example the recent pictures of Renee Zellweger that have caused such a storm. I really didn't recognise her. Either she is doing a Benjamin Button and is ageing backwards, or somebody has been to see the Pillow Doctor.
That's not to say she didn't look good. It's just she didn't look like her. I think that's where the problem lies. You have an image of what they looked like before and that image no longer exists. If that picture had popped up as a picture of Jane Smith you would have thought that Jane Smith was very pretty. And young.
Who are we to judge?
I'm not judging anyone who has had work. To be honest, I can sympathise with them. I'm constantly worrying about my lines, which ironically makes me more lined as I'm frowning at my reflection. I totally get why people feel they have to do something about it. But I'm just not brave enough to get someone to inject me with botulism.
It's even harder when you have kids who are brutally honest. "Mum, has someone carved your face with a knife?" was one comment from my son when he saw my creased face one morning. "Why is your tummy so squidgy?" was another.
Every time, my answer is the same. "I look like this because I had children, darling. I'd look like Jennifer Lawrence otherwise. Deal with it."
Amanda Coxen, Working Mum and Tinies Director