Since childhood I have liked the feeling of being the only person in the world doing what I’m doing. Silly, I know.

“Mum, do you think I am the only person in the world at this moment who is asking if I’m the only person in the world who at this moment who is asking if I’m the only person in the world who at this precise moment…”

The patience of my nearest and dearest can still move me to tears.

I love Melvin, a Donald O’Connor and Debbie Reynolds musical from 1953, brims with sunny innocence. It tells the story of a chorus girl who longs to be a star and, well, loves an awkard fellow named Melvin. It’s a gentle screwball comedy with cheerful songs and impassioned speeches such as: Melvin:”I’d do anything for you! I’d rod a bank, I’d take a rocket to the moon, anything! Just ask me!”

Judy: “Put me on the cover! My picture, on the cover of the magazine!”

Melvin: “Judy, I said I’d kill myself or take a rocket to the moon, but don’t ask the impossible!”

Debbie Reynolds is particularly memorable when plucked from the obscurity of the chorus and given a part playing a football that soars and swoops when kicked in a big song and dance soccer number. I am watching Melvin in preparation for seeing Reynolds in cabaret at the Caryle in New York in early June. I don’t expect her to sing “Good morning” from Singing in the Rain while capering over an upturned sofa – she is in her mid-70s after all – nor to dive and soar like a dancing human football, but I have heard tell that Reynolds anecdotes are spectacular, and her voice still charming and sweet.

I love these one-woman shows performed by Hollywood or Broadway ambassadors of a certain age. I collect their stories as if they were my own. I’ll never forget Betty Barret singing “I’m Still Here” at the Pizza on the Park in her 80s. in her delightful two-act showcase she almost apologized for being as well balanced as she was. She had a strong marriage from the start, which saved her from the horrors of the casting couch, she said, she generally played the heroine’s best friend, not the lead, and that took the pressure off to some extent, she added.

How these calm tales contrasted with Elaine Stritch’s adventures. In her one-women show, beautiful written by John Lahr, she recounts how she never, ever allowed herself more than two drinks before going on stage. Never, eve. That was the rule, and you just didn’t break it, but when you find yourself shopping for glasses in the vase department…

The Debbie Reynolds cabaret will kick off a romantic mini-break I am planning for myself, alone. It is actually a work trip but it hoverson the horizon like a gorgeous mirage. Even the flight is a thrilling prospect. With seven hours to myself on the plane I could probably finish my novel and plan another, working out complex strategies for improving my character. Plot the future careers of my children and create a Christmas shopping spreadsheet. It’s never too early. I’ve barely given getting any further away. It’s time to seize the carpet, as my friend Simon says.

I always like to overachieve in the air. I think it’s something about the high altitude that inspires and motivates, as you arrive in New York close to the hour special, free, doubled and utterly ripe for development. I sometimes think it’s a shame I work from home, because my inner commuter is mighty organized. Debbie Reynolds will be just about the first person I see after landing. I will head to her show straightaway and salute her like the old friend she almost is.

Perhaps, I’ll ask if I’m the only person in the world right now who knows, and can recite, the entire script of I love Melvin.