It wasn't always so, but I'm afraid I am very risk averse these days, and I admire people who can invite strangers into their home. Last year I opened the door to a man who turned up on our doorstep asking for DH by his Christian name. He turned out to be a chap who sat in the next seat to my husband and son at the football ground. How he had found out where we lived is a mystery to this day as DH, who would chat to him occasionally to be polite, never told him. One of our former neighbours had a seat at the back of DH and he can onlŷ assume that he overheard them talking about where we had moved to, did a bit of digging about and ended up at our address. He must have knocked on a lot of doors. DH, being the sort of chap he is, invited him in for a cup of tea. He lived in some sort of sheltered housing miles away from where we lived. I'm ashamed to say that I was not happy and couldn't bring myself to chat to him which is most unusual for me - I'm not like that - but it felt like an intrusion. I asked DH, after he had gone, to kindly ask him not to make a habit of calling in case he called and I was on my own. He came once more, when I did make an effort to talk to him, but never again. Then he stopped coming to the football and we heard that he had died, but no-one knew the circumstances. I am ashamed to this day about the way I treated him.