When I was in my first year of uni in London, I lived in halls in central London. I didn't have many friends at the time, I hadn't gelled with the folk on my course or in my residence and so I didn't go out pubbing and clubbing like many students - but I loved being in London and adored just wandering the city at all hours, exploring it and seeing it in different lights and at angles.
One night I'd walked from my halls down to Barbican and across to St Paul's Cathedral. I'd stopped to rest on some steps in St Paul's Churchyard, and was sitting there smoking a cigarette and half-reading a book. There weren't many people about. It must have been gone midnight when a man, probably in his late 40s or early 50s, in a suit and slightly drunk, walked almost past me then stopped and asked if I was alright. I said that I was, that I was enjoying the evening and being in the city and here was as good a place as any. He sat down on the steps next to me and told me he loved just wandering London too, and we talked for at least 2 hours - about history, architecture, literature, politics, his job (he was a solicitor), my degree, everything. Eventually he said he'd need to be getting home and after making sure I was okay to get home myself he gave me an awkward hug and then, out of the blue said, "I'm not just a solicitor, I'm a ghostwriter too, you know. From our conversation, you've probably read some of my books. If you work out who I am, get in touch - I'd really like that."
I have no idea who he was or what is name was or where he was going or where he is now. I've occasionally in the more than a decade since racked my brains for clues from the stuff we talked about which might hint at his books and thus who he was. I still have no idea and I never will. He also still pops into my head from time to time. I was a young, slim, pretty thing back then, and probably pretty emotionally vulnerable too - but he didn't sit down to talk to me because he wanted to try anything on or because he thought he could take advantage of me (even the hug as we parted was completely non-gropey) by being nice but because, it would seem, he just wanted to talk about things he enjoyed with somebody likeminded, and it didn't matter that I was at least half his age and that we were sitting, in the dark, in the small hours of the morning, on some stone steps in a public courtyard.