The Italian film actress, GinaLollobrigida, says it's not easyfor a woman to attendsocial events withouta partner. This is why she has been escorted for a number ofyearsby a much younger man.

Nancy Reagan and Jacqueline Kennedy, too,had professsional'walkers'when their husbands were unable to accompany them.

Iknowthe feeling when enteringa large hall, full of couples,alone. First everyone stares, which doesn't bother me,but when the waitressesignore me I get mad. Am I invisible, or something?

I shall explain. I went to a 'talk' (I'd had an invitation in the post) and paidtwelve pounds for the buffet, to include an alcoholic drink.

The Queen arrives last minute, I know, but I prefer going a little earlier. The taxidriver insisted on dropping me right outside the main door as it was drizzling. Everyonepeered asI got out and made my wayto the main hall. So what?

I waswaved in by an official butnot invited to geta drink (perhaps there was a specific time when the drinks began, I don't know).I don't drink alcohol, anyway, so went to a separate bar,bought a juice, returned to my 'do' and walked around, looked at the pictures on the wall, then sat down to sip the drink.

As the place filled up,three waitresses appeared,carrying trays of canapes. Each one sailed passed me and went straight to the middle of the room where the tallest and loudest guestschattered. Two waitresses came back with empty trays, not once glancing my way. I stopped the third one - I sound like theAncient Mariner - 'He stoppeth one of three'- desperate to tell my tale to anyone who will listen.

There were five scrappy biscuits left,no larger than the size of an old penny.

'I was wondering if I might have something?' I said boldly.

Deploying a social lie, the young girlsaid, though she hadn't looked at me, though she was passing right by and though I'd had to raise my hand to signal to her, (showsI was a teacher in a past life) that she hadintended bringing me a fresh biscuit.

Refraining from saying 'Yeah. Whatever', like my grandsonswhen they hear a whopper,I waited for her return and thentook three biscuits. (They were four pounds each, for goodness sake.)

Theevening came to an endandmy taxi, from the same firm, arrived shortly afterwards.The young driver wanted to know what the event was about.Iskipped through that andunloaded aboutthe buffet.

He listened intently.'Did the biscuits have something sugary on the top?'

'Only tiny scraps of cheese, tomato and peppers', I explained.

'Ask for your money back', was the first suggestion.

It wasn't the money that was annoying me, I said, it was being totally ignored. The money was secondary.

He breathed in deeply: 'You hungry? I knowa very good curry house. I take you. You get a lot of curry for twelve pounds.'

I started laughing, though I'd not touched a drop. The taxi driver had turned the night around, though I didn't have any curry, either.