I WASN'T planning to repeat myself so soon within the pages of Just Jamie but such is the unpredictability of life.

It was only a fortnight ago when I told you about my old mate Fred the Dread -- my life-long pal whom I have know since we were both knee-high to a bar stool. Course he didn't have dreadlocks then.

I told you how the Dreadster (try and imagine a white version of Bob Marley) turned up at the new home of the Long Suffering Marjorie and I barely weeks after us moving in.

He had landed back in Blighty after the recent leg of one of his many jaunts around the world -- found out where I was (a different place to when he left these shores) and turned our life upside down as only Fred the Dread possibly can. And then he was gone.

Word on the street was that he was in Scotland, although I didn't know for sure and his parents certainly didn't know for sure. The Dread is one of these people who can disappear for months without a word to anyone on his whereabouts save the odd coded e-mail.

When he returned earlier his month, his mum and dad thought he had been in Thailand. Truth is he had gone to India, flown from there to Ireland before making his way to Spain and Portugal. And then to my house.

His free-spirited way of life is envious to contemporaries like myself, stuck in an office all day, shackled by the constraints of modern life. But it must also be a nightmare for his folks.

I thought my girlfriend Marjorie was long suffering putting up with me but she has nothing on Fred the Dread's mum and dad. Anyway I mention him again this week because -- true to form -- he turned up unexpectedly at the weekend. And he was not alone.

He had in tow a girl with him whom he had met in Ireland although she was from Israel. When he was in England he had arranged for her to go to Scotland. Now they were both at my house.

It's always good to see him but a little pre-warning would be nice sometimes. The LSM had planned to go out with her new found friends to celebrate her first week at college.

She has gone back to study to become a teacher (she says she wants to inspire the leaders of tomorrow but I think it's the holidays) and they all wanted to go out and talk shop. I was not invited.

I wasn't offended in the least -- the thought of spending an evening discussing Key Stage 2 filled me with dread -- and instead I was looking forward to a little quality Jamie time. A couple of cans, perhaps a video. I might even throw in a few of games of Fifa 2001 on the PlayStation 2 where my virtual Man United team is currently dominating a virtual Europe.

Mind you I do have Ronaldo and Rivaldo providing my firepower while Keane and Patrick Vierra boss the midfield. The virtual Man United is seemingly less financially constrained than the real one.

All thoughts of a relaxing Saturday night soon evaporated however by the piercing shrill of the doorbell.

There, bags and all, was Fred. And his girlfriend Ela (pronounced eee-la but God knows how it is spelt!).

From looking forward to my own company I was now looking forward to a night out with another couple. And as the LSM could not change her plans, I was left playing gooseberry -- and I never realised it's an awful thing to play.

I've been in similar situations many times in the past but it's always been me with the girlfriend. And I must have been so wrapped up in the other person that I honestly did not know it is truly hellish.

The in-jokes that only the couple get. The not-so subtle references to bedroom antics that unfortunately not only the couple get leaving spare parts (me) feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Not to mention being forced to witness at first hand some female stranger pawing over the best friend you have known for years. It was not the best of nights.

But it was good to see the old Fred looking content with a girl whom he clearly admires.

His parents would be so proud. I just bet they don't know a thing about it!