I offered to buy her a drink, and soon realised I was in for an expensive half an hour.  Five pints of Löwenbräu with Scotch and Pernod chasers later, she finally got out of her car, with Tutu (her registered disabled Pekinese) peeping nervously out of her handbag.

Ishmaeli Beige: Dame Blandine, the first 73 years of your life have been very nice.  What next?

Dame Blandine: A dry white wine and a Perrier for Tutu. Are you warm enough in that poncho?

IB: Yes.  What are your...

DB: Hopes. I'm not deaf.  I would like to see the age of consent for pointework raised to 16.

IB: Even though you had pointe at 13 yourself?

DB: Times have changed - it was different for us.  I had loving parents who supported me through my first pirouette - and there simply wasn't the same risk of damage to one's toe. These days, I don't let any of my girls try pointe shoes without using a toe-cap.  I was also, you will remember, the youngest girl in Munich to go on pointe.

IB: That would have been in 1938 - a time for difficult moral decisions in Germany?

DB:  Well of course we didn't know then what we know today.  The Hitler Youth Ballet was an experimental company - some of the teachers weren't even RAD trained! - so my parents sent me to the Raymond Revue Bar of Classical Ballet in Sidcup.

IB: Do you regret it?

DB: I'm going to the ladies room.  Another dry white wine, and some Mignons Morceaux for Tutu.

After I had waited for nearly ten minutes, I decided to go in search of Dame Blandine.  If I had been better briefed for the interview, I would have known that the Queen's Knees doesn't have a ladies room: I eventually  found my quarry at a table in the Games Room, playing backgammon with Ekaterina Eleftherou, owner of the largest ballet merchandise establishment in Europe.

I heard them discussing Ekaterina's plans for buying all the cats in Crete to be photographed by Antony Crickmay for her new "Kittens in Class" calendar.

Until now, Dame Blandine had not mentioned her unfair trial for possession of class A drugs in 1952, and strangely nor had anyone else since.

DB: Oh you're back. Since you're here, I'll have another dry white wine and some Pork Scratchings for my dear friend Ekaterina.

Finding Ekaterina in the same public place as Dame Blandine was a coup.  This dreadful woman has been responsible for some of the greater offences against good taste in ballet.  I put this point to her, but within minutes, found myself forking out £10 for a microwaveable wheatbag for neck tension.

IB: Getting back to your new position at Dame Blandine's People's New Royal Opera House. What plans do you have to make ballet more accessible?

DB:  Oh don't worry, I won't be doing that!  I plan to raise ticket prices - I'm sick of this "dumbing down" business.  I don't want to meet my neighbours in the foyer, do you?

IB: How does this fit in with the government's dedication to "A People's Opera House"?

DB: I'm in the business of running a ballet company, my dear.  Ask Ekaterina if she would have ever have made a penny had she not insisted on only quality materials for her extensive catalogue of Ballet Whims 'n' Things.

Another trip to the Cashpoint later, I find myself the proud (?) owner of a flameproof statuette of Dame Alicia Markova, for which I have made a downpayment of £35 - the remaining £240 will be debited from my account in 12 easy monthly instalments.  Dame Blandine generously offered to go to the bar herself this time.  There seemed strangely little change from the £20 note I gave her, so I found myself breaking a £50 note to buy the leg of a chair in the Royal Box with my name on it.

Half an hour later, we were sitting in the car park of Chez flons flons du bal in Streatham.  £135 seemed rather steep for a taxi, and I was surprised to see "Ekaterina Cabs" on the back of the receipt, but it was turning into an interesting and educational evening.

As we entered the restaurant, Dame Blandine was greeted enthusiastically by several of her ex-students.  We were ushered into a back-room, where Davros Eleftherou played selections from "Midnight Express" and Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals on an electric piano.

It was to be the last I saw of Dame Blandine, and her dear friend Ekaterina Eleftherou that night.  I found myself wishing them both well, something that doesn't come easily or naturally to a critic.  Happy 73rd, Dame Blandine.