THE show by folk-rocker Richard Thompson at the city’s New Theatre, on Saturday was, our spies tell us, every bit as thrilling as you might expect from one of the greatest living guitarists.

Richard, despite being a Londoner, is a very familiar face in our county, being a mate of the largely Oxfordshire-based Fairport Convention, and a regular fixture at Cropredy Festival – or, as they clumsily insist on calling it these days, ‘Fairport’s Cropredy Convention’. And he is used to being approached by star-struck fans.

But, he confessed to me while chatting before his gig, that when it comes to recognising people, he has a knack for putting his feet in it.

“The most embarrassing time was in Rome,” he cringed.

“It was 1967, and I was still with Fairport. I was young, long-haired and because we’d been partying hard, I hadn’t slept the night before.

“I was checking into a posh hotel and had two guitars and suitcases. I was hungover and tired, but in the lobby I saw a guy in uniform, so I said ‘excuse me, could you help me with my bags?’ “The guy looked shocked and said ‘Do you know who you're talking to? I’m a colonel in the United States Army!’.”

I related instantly, being a seasoned pro at forgetting names, misjudging situations and generally getting things wrong. Heck, I’m the guy who just after moving to Oxford, spent 20 minutes talking to a member of Radiohead, without realising who he was – despite a nagging feeling that he looked familiar.

I’m also proud of spending time backstage at Reading Festival drinking beer with someone I thought was a drummer in an unsigned band, only to have it pointed out by a beaming mate that it was Matthew Horne of Gavin & Stacey fame – at the time one of the most familiar faces on telly.

All of this is by way of an apology to the talented and respected musician who I initially failed to recognise at the bar at Equitruck, a couple of weeks ago, and who had to put up with me overcompensating with gushing praise, when the penny eventually dropped.

Things could be worse though. Pity poor Jim Kerr of Simple Minds.

Asking the ‘80s pop giant if he was often spotted by fans on his trips around the world, he told me, through gritted teeth, about the time he was wandering through an airport in Japan, when a group of teenagers started sniggering and pointing.

Lapping it up, he approached them and asked if they knew who he was, “to which they all piped up in unison ‘Jimi Hendrix!’”