Back in April 1976 I checked into my then favourite hotel - the Princess in Acapulco Mexico - only to be told that my suite was occupied. "By whom", I complained, "I always stay there. Throw them out". "No, we can't", they replied. "It's occupied by Howard Hughes" who happened to own the hotel.
"But we can give you exactly the same suite on the floor below. It's identical; just one floor lower".
Grudgingly I accepted. One morning I woke up and there were security men everywhere. There was a lockdown.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Howard Hughes died in the night", they answered. "He's being rushed back to the USA".
That was 5th April.
Next day all the papers were full of the story that Hughes had died on the plane - just as it crossed into US air space.
Oh yeah?
I knew better.
So I was exactly 6 feet below Howard Hughes the moment he died in the night of the 4th April. In Mexico.
I did not, however, insist on moving back into my customary suite!