But I see continued horror in Steve's eyes. Not at what he's done - but at what he now has to do. He has set a precedent. Put forward an image. He has bounded in like the most vivacious man the world has ever seen - a man so vivacious he'll hug strangers and stare deep into their eyes - and now, to get away with it, he has to maintain a level of vivacity never before seen in humankind. He has to maintain an unmaintainable level of excitement. He has to be Timmy Mallett.

'C'mere, you!' he suddenly half-yells, grabbing my wife and hugging her like a long-lost sister. He has to show he is even more pleased to see her than he was at seeing a stranger, and rattles her about like a rag doll. 'So good to see you!'

He catches my eye over her shoulder as he shakes her about and it is clear he is pleading with me not to give the game away. He lets her go and tries to get her to do a high-five, but now she's confused too, and possibly dizzy and breathless, and so I complete the high-five on her behalf, and say, 'Let's eat!'

We sit down and attempt polite chit-chat, but the bar has already been set too high. An unwarranted level of intimacy has been established, and Steve now has to act like the life and soul of the party - like a man who always walks up to people he's never met before and shouts 'So good to see you!' in their face.

He tells stories. He stands up and acts some of them out. He's loud and brash and has to be especially friendly to Paul so as not to make him think he's after his wife. He joshes with the waiters and uses the chopsticks to make a huge makeshift moustache. And by the end of the meal, exhausted, spent and drunk, he has just about got away with it.

'It was so nice to meet you,' says my friend's wife, as we wait for taxis outside. 'It feels like we've known each other ages!'

Steve's cab arrives and I know he can finally relax.

He bids us goodbye and clambers inside.

'Good to see you!' he shouts at the driver, for our benefit. The driver smiles at him and begins a conversation.

It is going to be a long journey home.

THE DREAM

I notice my wife feels a little frosty when I bring her a cup of tea in bed. Perhaps it's hormones. Pregnancy hormones. I attempt to find out.

'It's nothing,' she says, waving me away, and I choose to believe her, because it's easier.