One sunny afternoon I was walking towards Piccadilly Circus and as I walked along Glasshouse street from Sherwood Street I saw this slim black man looking very chic in brown floppy jeans, a black jacket and oddly enough a black fedora hat, worn near the back of his head and perched at an angle where it sat near the to his right ear than his left.

The whole outfit looked expensive and I was impressed. Michel and a friend were walking toward me from the direction of Piccadilly Circus. We had to move from the centre of the pavement in order to pass each other. They moved to the right and I moved to my left and from the moment our eyes caught fom about 7 feet away fromeach other I don't think the short man and I saw anything of each other's bodies as we just looked into each other's eyes.

I continued walking determined not to turn round however after about three places curiosity got the better of me and as I turned round to look at him he was turning round to look at me.I stopped. He stopped. We walked back to each other, he put his hands on my shoulders and said, "My name is Michel."

The French accent was fascinating and his voice was like a loud whisper. I was about to tell him my name when he leaned forward, pulled himself up to his tip toes and kissed me on both cheeks. This was the first time I had been greeted by a Frenchman though I'd seen on films and television how they greeted each other this way. Continued