The precarious first step, the realisation that you are stuck in the mud, that you are no longer a teen, you are 20-ish (creative licence used), and drowning in the situation you have found yourself in.

That trapped sinking feeling in your stomach. That you are 20-ish feet deep.

The first step for me was not when I left school, or finished University or even when I was on the cusp of being made redundant. The realisation that I was drowning came when my long-standing family, friend who I had lost touch with for years decided to visit.

I had heard from my parents that he had gotten a girlfriend, gotten weighty and gotten a baby. All of these things repulsed me, the idea of commitment was a ball and chain that I almost laughed at, that I was free of such things.

It was when they came down to the quiet of our little baby-less bubble that I realised he was happy. It was when he asked what I was doing now that I realised, I had been stuck in the mud without realising it. I oodles in educational debt, no commitment, soon to be no job and no clue. That the sleepless nights and the headaches were symptoms of restless mind.

That evening the meal out was a nightmare, I never went out. I, as my dad commented was a “home-bird” this only added to the discomfort. As they cooed at the baby in the cot remarking of their recent venture into getting their own place. I could only nod and smile. The only saving grace was another friendly face, some guy from school-days behind the bar I had been crushing on, but would never fully consider.

We parted ways for the evening and promised to meet the next night, having completed the first reunion dinner, I turned to bed, as least I had managed to go out.

Then with another restless night, I checked social media armed with a name and face of my long-standing friends’ girlfriend. After about 10 minutes I found myself scrolling to the waiter of that evening only to be rejected by his relationship status with the waitress.

Having reached that first step, the moment of greatest enthusiasm with smallest follow-through, wanting to change.

#shaynabryer

I suspect only movie aficionados and folks of a certain generation will know the name Walter Matthau. He starred alongside Jack Lemmon in The Odd Couple and has 106 entries on IMDB.

Perhaps the most flattering thing to say about his appearance is – he was not a handsome fellow. Funny? Yes. Talented? I think so. Successful? 106 entries on IMDB. Good looking? Erm….

But that didn’t stop me being star struck when I saw him in the centre of my home town.

Born in 1920, Mr Matthau was 50+ years older than me. However, as two of my favourite pleasures in life are watching films and laughing, I was a fan of his work and therefore could easily spot him in a crowd. Even if that place was nearly 5,300 miles from Hollywood in a busy city in the north of England.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re not some little backwater settlement which has never known the grace of celebrity. Queen Victoria herself opened our Town Hall and we have given the world a member of a very successful and popular girlband. (Admittedly, that second adjective is debatable.)

But I have not met either of those women nor in fact ever seen, up close, a real-life legend of the silver screen. So I was amazed and shocked when I glimpsed Mr Matthau through a shop window.

Let me try and set the scene…

It was late morning on a Saturday in June. Though I don’t remember the exact year, I was in my early twenties so it would have been the mid-1990s. I’d finished work for the day, having done the 6 a.m. to 11.30 a.m. shift, and was hastening to the bus stop so I could get home to rest. (I’d also worked 6.00 a.m. - 5.00 p.m. the previous five days, hard days of labouring in the claustrophobic cellars of a prime hotel.)

As I wandered up the street, I glanced in the windows of the shops I passed every day. Sunlight glinted, causing me to squint quite often. Most of the displays I knew by heart. The shoes, the electronic goods, the record stores. (Yes, this was back in the day of vinyl.)

And then I saw him and stopped in my tracks.

The wrinkled face. The sagging jowls. The bags under his eyes. (As I said, not a handsome man.)

I stared and, as my mouth fell open in wonder, I saw he was looking at me. Right at me. Walter Matthau, the star of Bad News Bears and California Suite, was seeing me, a nobody from England. He opened his mouth but said nothing.

For a good ten seconds, we gaped ay one another. I couldn’t wait to tell this story, to exalt my friends with my brush with stardom.

Until…

A cloud covered the sun. The window dimmed. And I was left peering into a high-end clothes store, my reflection gone.