Not sure whether was being subjected to stealth marketing or being chatted up by American tourist.

American in question was catching train to Brighton and, after asking loudly if this was the Brighton train, asked me if the seat opposite was taken and then if I lived in Brighton and if it was a nice place and what I would recommend him to see there etc etc.

Josh, which is what he turned out to be called, was not deterred by foot-and-mouth, BSE, rain or any of the other things currently deterring American tourists from setting foot upon our shores.

He claimed to be over for a couple of weeks to see a few shows and take in the sights.

He was based in London but someone had recommended that he spend a day or so in Brighton. So here he was on the 18.06, planning to spend a night and a day in the city.

"So where do you hang out in the evenings?" asked Josh who, being a New Yorker, expected everyone to be hanging out somewhere till three or four in the morning.

He was disappointed when I explained that usually by the time my train had been delayed it was too late to do anything other than head home, get something to eat and go to bed so I could get up early enough to catch my train the following morning.

Josh, however, had a much busier evening planned. "I was thinking of taking a walk along the prom and going on the pier and then maybe going to a show or a movie, having a meal and then going clubbing tonight," he said.

"Then I've got most of the day tomorrow before I have a dinner appointment back in London at 9pm. What would you recommend I do tomorrow."

After making a few rather poor suggestions such as seeing the Pavilion and The Lanes, none of which seemed quite happening enough for Josh, I managed to terminate the conversation and started reading my book.

So, Josh got out his and began reading too. That should have been the end of my rather hopeless foray into marketing Brighton and the end of a conversation which, although not unpleasant, was uninvited at the end of a long, hard day.

But I happened to glance up to see what Josh was reading, which happened to be Harry Potter, and my mentally registering the fact was all that Josh needed to get going with the conversation again.

"You like Harry Potter?" he said.

I can't quite see what all the fuss is about," I confessed, which brought on a light-hearted rant by Josh about how us Brits were all so anti-success we couldn't bring ourselves to admit to liking anything that was a success.

"You read this?" he said, brandishing the book.

"I tried," I said, trying to appease his killjoy Brit sentiments. "I have a copy which I tried to read to see what all the fuss was about. But after the first few chapters I still didn't really care what happened to the Potter family, so I stopped reading it and read something I actually wanted to read instead."

"You should have kept going," insisted Josh. "It gets better and better. You could never regret reading Harry Potter."

"Maybe not," I consented, trying to get back to my book, though having got talking again, Josh was reluctant to stop.

"You should see the movie," he said. "You'd love it. I know you would. You could go after work sometime. You'd be back in time and the cinema's not far from the station."

Which left me wondering if Josh was the innocent American tourist he claimed to be, who'd never been to Brighton before, or if he was employed by the Harry Potter conglomeration to spread the word ...