But now, up ahead, I see her. We are walking down the same street, and she is slowing down. What do I do? Do I catch up with Su Pollard? Do I overtake her? Both seem disrespectful somehow. But now she is stooping down. She's spotted something on the ground, between the fallen autumn leaves, and she's trying to pick it up. I can't stop now, I have to keep walking, but it's then that she spots me and she looks embarrassed and I see what it is she's now holding in her hand.

'Er ... Find a penny, pick it up, and all that day you'll have good luck!', she says, showing me the penny; justifying it.

I should smile, and say, 'A penny saved is a penny earned!' or something along those lines, but I don't. Something from childhood kicks in, something from the excited 1980s me, and I look at her, and I say, 'Give that penny to a friend, and then your luck will never end!'

And now - unbelievably - I am holding out my hand! It is pure instinct! But it has backfired! I had meant to recite a verse of friendship - instead, I have demanded Su Pollard give me her penny!

She looks at me for a moment.

'I never knew it ended like that,' she says, and she hands it over. She looks annoyed.

But I am happy, because I have met Su Pollard, and she has given me a penny.

THE PHONE CALL

I am in Los Angeles, eating a taco in the sun with my friends Tiffany and Jason.

'So meeting new people in this city's always so hard,' says Tiffany.

'Yeah, new people are so hard to find,' says Jason.

But then there's a smile.

Because Jason has a new boyfriend.

'It's no big deal,' he says, lying, before adding, 'It's kind of a big deal.'

'What's he like?' I ask, and Jason picks up his phone and fiddles with it, embarrassed.

'Don't be embarrassed!' says Tiffany, who is eating her taco with a fork, as if she is some kind of Mexican queen. 'Let your heart do the talking.'

'He's cool,' says Jason, shrugging, and casting his phone aside. 'Andrew's a great guy.'

He says it in such a way as to suggest he wants to talk about this no more, never again, but what he is really saying is, 'Please let's talk about this some more, and instantly.'

'So how long's it now?' I ask, which, if Jason were Graham Norton, would result in a reply not fit for print.

'Two months,' he says, which is actually quite a boring answer, and sort of makes me wish he were Graham Norton.

'Two months!' I say, patronisingly, before adding: 'I think he might be The One!'