The day I was mistaken for an Olympic hero

SOMETIMES we revisit the past quite unexpectedly: the photograph of the Olympian, David Wilkie (Yorkshire Post, November 4) evoked half-forgotten memories.

In September 1978, I attended a function at a posh London hotel. David Wilkie was there to promote the launch of a new range of swimwear. He was the UK member of “team Arena” which was composed of an array of Olympic swimming champions like Mark Spitz of America.

There was a show with models and music, and afterwards a lavish buffet reception for invited guests and the press.

I happened to be wearing my Carnegie blazer, with its distinctive discobolus badge and lettering, Perhaps that is why I was suddenly corned by a young and eager Press girl, from whose ardent attentions I found it difficult to escape; “why is she asking me all these pertinent questions?”, I pondered. I was an athlete and all-round sportsman who had gained representative honours – but was not well renowned.

And then I was approached by a beautiful, young model, who coyly asked for my autograph.

I was, of course, flattered, if somewhat bemused. It was surreal. But she smiled sweetly upon receipt of my indecipherable scribble.

And then a colleague enlightened me: “She thought you were David Wilkie”.

“What?” I exclaimed.

And now, gazing at the Yorkshire Post image, I do 
see the resemblance to 
myself, when young... after 35 years have passed, in the twinkling of an eye.