My 9-year-old dreams come true ... nearly

Yesterday, I attended a corporate training session in London, which included a session on (to summarise) business lessons that can be learnt from poker. Our presenter, Caspar Berry, was introduced by m'colleague as an ex-poker player who had also once been in Byker Grove. I wondered idly which character he had played, and whether he had met the subject of one of my few major childhood crushes, the rough, ready and utterly *dreamy* Gil (star of the first series in 1989, Gil took misplaced southerner Julie under his wing and nicknamed her the Duchess; I spent the next four or five years longing for a Boyfriend who'd call me Duchess).

Later that night, with Caspar and his excellent presentation relegated to the back of my mind following a Pimms or two in the hotel bar, I was strolling through Soho with another colleague en route to a Korean barbecue. "I asked that Caspar who he played in Byker Grove. He said his character was called 'Gil', and he reckoned he had women throwing themselves at him." mused said colleague, with a scepticism that was soon overcome by my gaping jaw, saucer eyes, and subsequent bemoaning of the fact that I had not even recognised my childhood idol, much less persuaded him to polish up his Geordie accent and utter the immortal endearment. Arses.

Still, later that night I did at least recognise Oliver Chris as he hobbled past us on crutches on the Tottenham Court Road, which was some consolation.