But she was a mugger, a chugger, a what-do-you-call-it? A charity fundraiser. Out on the street, her hugs come with strings attached.
As her logo came into focus, as I caught the faintest hint of her neroli perfume, I made an impulsive swift dodge under her left arm and wrong footed her in the style of the best rugby forwards. I left her bemused, talking to herself and stroking her hair back into place.