I met J. K. Rowling in — well, actually, I can’t tell you where I met her. Her office is in a proper Secret Location. Quite good fun, really, unless you decide to be annoyed about the whole palaver. But why be annoyed? I was awfully curious to meet her. So I arrived, and there she was, petite and blonde and shaking my hand with what I would call reserved warmth. A lady who likes her glamour, the day we met she was casually chic in jeans, Converse and a blue jacket draped round her shoulders. Her make-up was subtle, but precise; her hands were perfectly manicured. She looks like someone who has settled into being who she is now.