So far as I can remember (and who am I kidding, how would I forget?) the one and only time a total stranger has randomly tried to pick me up was on a London street when, en route to work in this morning, some random dude heading the other way stopped and said in a nice plummy accent: "Excuse me but do you fancy a drink after work?" I didn't really know how to respond. I'm pretty sure he wanted to chop me up into little pieces and store me in his freezer, maybe eat me over the winter.
I recount this story not to brag about how devastatingly attractive I am to would-be murderers around the globe (although...) but to point you towards this blog post from the incomparable Lindsay, writing about a story in the Daily Fail which is... I don't even know how to describe it without resorting to a block quote:
“Throughout my adult life, I’ve regularly had bottles of bubbly or wine sent to my restaurant table by men I don’t know. Once, a well-dressed chap bought my train ticket when I was standing behind him in the queue, while there was another occasion when a charming gentleman paid my fare as I stepped out of a cab in Paris.To quote Arrested Development... her?
"Another time, as I was walking through London’s Portobello Road market, I was tapped on the shoulder and presented with a beautiful bunch of flowers. Even bar tenders frequently shoo my credit card away when I try to settle my bill."
Anyway it's brilliant/awful but it's also the first thing that made me laugh all day today and you can read it in all its, um, glory here.