"You aren't going home for Christmas? Would you do me a really big favour?" Megan, a work colleague asked and, of course, I agreed, without having the faintest idea what she would require of me. Apparently she and her husband were off to Australia to visit relatives for a month but their son, Arthur, couldn't get the time off work.

"Would you mind very much if he came to stay for the holiday? He's an awfully nice boy and absolutely no trouble—but a little bit shy. He hasn't got many friends…"

I remember how my eyes blinked rapidly and my words caught in my throat. The last time I had seen young Arthur must have been about four or five years ago when he had been the archetypal, spotty teenage geek hunched over his Gameboy and occasionally grunting at people. I could hardly imagine what she expected me to do with this child for Christmas. And what would the hunk have to say?

So Arthur arrived with his sports bag and anorak. The acne seemed to have cleared up, thankfully, and he had grown and filled out somewhat, but he still had the look of one of those young men you see on the roof at airports, plane-spotting. His dress sense was also rather dodgy—Fair Isle jumpers and brown lace up brogues? But, I made the best of a bad deal and welcomed him with my usual affectionate style—first mistake.

At the door, he smiled a little shyly and extended his hand to shake mine. I grabbed him and kissed him smack on the lips. It was just a friendly peck, but I knew straight away that it was the wrong move entirely. Arthur was acutely embarrassed and didn't know what to say. Perhaps I should have just grabbed his groin and compounded my rudeness with crudeness and really put him off? I am such an idiot at times.