Today, I experienced the awkwardness of walking past the same man twice: once, as he left his house in the morning, presumably on his way to work, and once, when he returned home.
It was a moment we both silently acknowledged. He probably thought I was staking out his property. Thank God I wasn't wearing my trusty balaclava and carrying my trusty mace; it was at home, being greased.
We managed to pass each other on exactly the same point on the pavement, thus consolidating the weirdness. I resisted the urge to give him a high-five, as he didn't look the type; after all, he was wearing a gilet. Maybe tomorrow I'll put on the one I had to buy for a casting once, and give him a wink; that'll stop him trying any funny business.