Am obviously having a bit of an identity crisis, not with my own identity but that of those around me.

Last week, after spending entire journey to London thinking attractive man opposite found self equally attractive (as he kept smiling at me), had all illusions dashed when he approached me and asked, not for a phone number or a drink, but where he knew me from.

Although I couldn't immediately remember him from anywhere, he narrowed it down to a job I had done several years ago.

He seemed pleased that I was indeed the person who used to sit opposite Bob, and who was slow in getting to grips with newly installed office computer system; to quote Peter Docherty (I eventually remembered his name), "It used to really annoy Bob."

And, having sorted out exactly where I fitted in the pattern of his life, he was off.

This incident taught me that, if anyone looked vaguely familiar and smiled at me, then I probably knew them but had forgotten their names and should smile and chat back.

A resolution I had chance to put into practice yesterday evening, when a familiar looking woman walked though carriage looking for somewhere to sit.

"Anne!" I exclaimed, as she looked in my direction. She looked very like someone called Anne, who I had worked with five or six years ago. But on closer inspection I saw that she wasn't actually that person at all.

"Sorry..." I mumbled. "You're not Anne. I thought you were someone I used to work with."

"I am Anne," said the woman, sitting down opposite me and smiling. "Oh!" I said, surprised but absolutely sure this wasn't the Anne that I thought I had said Hello to. "How are you?"

"Fine," said Anne. "And you? Are you still working at...." she trailed off.

"No! I left..." I said, wondering where it was that I was working at the time that she thought knew me from. Because I was pretty sure I didn't know her at all.

"So did I..." said Anne. "Geoff Peters is still there though." "Really?" I replied. I definitely didn't know Geoff Peters. Anne probably did. But I think it was beginning to dawn on her that she didn't actually know me either. She just happened to have the same name as someone else that I did know, or used to know anyway.

"Do you remember Geoff?" she asked.

"Not really," I admitted. "Before my time." "Geoff has been there for 40 years..." Anne replied.

Now was the time to come clean and admit that I didn't actually know Anne from Eve. But by this time we'd been chatting a good ten minutes, so I thought it best simply to carry on as if we did know each other. "Of course, Geoff..." I bluffed. "For a moment I was thinking his name was Peter but of course he was Geoff Peters..."

"Lovely seeing you again..." said Anne, as she prepared to get off at East Croydon, bringing the embarrassing incident to a close.

Except that it had been viewed in its entirety by blond athletic man from Hassocks who happened to be sitting on the other side of the aisle.

"Gwyneth!" he said, looking at me and smiling as if I was a long lost friend. "How lovely to see you."

"Not Gwyneth," I said truculently, knowing he was taking the mickey.

"Oh, no..." he said. "Of course not. For a moment I thought you were Gwyneth Paltrow. But now that I come to look at you more closely you don't actually look like her at all...."