I am standing in a cinema foyer in Sitges for a showing of my film Stardust, after walking through a guard of honour made up of student ushers and usherettes who clapped as I passed them. I don't know who was more bemused - they certainly had no idea who I was and I had no idea why they were doing it. And there's only my sniggering business partner Kris as audience.
The week began with something that was much more my cup of tea. My wife and I went to see Ricky Gervais's brilliant Fame show. I met Ricky when he was playing Ferdy the Fence in Stardust and I had one of the best days of filming I had ever had. I honestly think he is Britain's equivalent of Woody Allen, and watching him act with Robert De Niro and Michelle Pfeiffer in the film was priceless. Afterwards, we drove home, where I greeted screenwriter Mark Protosevich as a guest.
In truth, I did not treat him very well as I forced him to work for the whole weekend - he is the writer on Thor, my next film, which I am directing with Marvel. The weekend was a success - we finished the script and celebrated with an '88 Palmer, and I was feeling good and ready to tackle the necessary evil of film promotion.
To Paris for the NRJ movie (the French equivalent of MTV) awards. I was with my wife, so the press line went berserk and I was literally pushed off the red carpet. Claudia was asked why she was there - to which she replied it was to support her husband and his film.
And where is he again? Getting soaked in the rain looking like a deranged fan. She then realises that I'm not next to her. She points to me and a disappointed security thug lets me on the red carpet.
The film played well. I was surprised by how much the French liked the English sense of humour and reassured that they seemed to enjoy the romance.
With this in mind, I took Claudia out for dinner - very much in the mood for love. However food poisoning is the strongest passion killer. And the French loo - forgive me, readers - became my best friend and, after having no sleep, I went downstairs to excuse myself from the junket to be met by a worried-looking Paramount official. Michelle Pfeiffer had injured her back and could not come to Paris. It was time to put my best face on - thank you, Miss Make-Up Artist, for trying - and I reluctantly agreed to do 60 interviews, but needed 30 loo breaks. And, no, I don't have a 'stardust' problem.
Killing time in a Paris hotel room, I watch a documentary about Lock, Stock..., which made me feel ancient. Nostalgia is an extraordinarily strong emotion, and I was reminded of the time when I had no responsibilities. We - the Lock, Stock... gang - did all sorts of silly things, but I think I'd look like an idiot if I went to a nightclub now.
Back to London, where Michelle shows what a trouper she is by ignoring the pain. Together we brave the British press. One shouldn't moan too much about the junket process, but you are asked the same question hundreds of times. 'What is it like working with De Niro?' 'How did you get De Niro, Pfeiffer, O'Toole etc?' 'How did I go from being a producer to a director?' 'How do we solve the Middle East crisis?' ... Er, no, not that last one. More 'What's it like being married to a supermodel?'
What happens is that after a while you get bored and end up changing the answer and you feel really stupid when you read it a couple of days later.
My friend David Fincher has come up with a plan to deal with broadcast interviews: get the cast, writers, directors, everybody in a room with one of the best interviewers in the world and film it from four different angles, against a green screen, so different backgrounds can be dropped in. Then all you need to do for promotional purposes is hand out this handsome DVD.
After the press I went upstairs to a suite bigger than my house -thank you, Paramount - and was greeted by my excited kids. They certainly appreciate Claridge's, where there are televisions in the bathrooms. Father Christmas is going to be deaf this year.
Then the premiere. They've become non-events in this country, attended by the new breed of celebrity famous for having no talent whatever and full of film industry types hoping that the film will be dreadful. I'm glad to say that we bucked the trend - people came whose celebrity were a by-product of their talent. And then the party at my home, where I was told that the film played well. But what else can you say if your host is also the director?
My phone has just rung. Marvel loves the script. The only problem is that it has been costed at $300m and they ask how I am going to reduce it by $150m. I think I prefer being asked what it's like working with De Niro.
After laughing at Ricky Gervais, the movie director sees his wife get the attention at his film premiere, faces the press with Michelle Pfeiffer and is asked if he can manage to cut a £300m budget in half.
The Life Born March 1971. Dropped out of course in anthropology and ancient history at UCL. Married to Claudia Schiffer. One son, one daughter.
The Work Aged 25, produced a little-seen thriller, The Innocent Sleep. Then formed partnership with director Guy Ritchie on Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (1998), Snatch (2000). Directorial debut: Bafta-nominated Layer Cake (2004). Stardust, which he has written and directed, is released on 19 October.