IT can be so difficult, not knowing what to do when you suddenly find yourself just a few feet away from the Queen.

I haven't seen what the new Debrett's Handbook has to say about such an occasion, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't advise you to gaze open-mouthed at the monarch, turn a vivid beetroot colour, and generally act like a freshly-certified, grade-one village idiot.

It's a memory I thought I had repressed but every now and again it bubbles to the surface - as when, for example, Debrett's brings out the latest edition of its handbook, thus prompting newspapers to run articles on how one should behave in certain social situations, which is exactly what has been happening this week.

The incident - and to be honest I don't think it even merits such a description - came when the Queen arrived in my home town to open a leisure centre.

Reporters, photographers and TV crews stood outside and recorded the occasion. I, however, missed it, having wandered indoors prior to the opening and taken a wrong turning.

Spotting my colleagues outside, I walked through the front door - at the precise moment, unfortunately, as the Queen decided to enter the premises.

For a few seconds that seemed to stretch to an eternity, the Queen and I found ourselves just three or four feet apart.

I was transfixed. The most famous woman in the world (then as now) was within touching distance. All I could hear was the sound of my wildly-beating heart. What on earth do you say to her in such a situation? You can't ask her, "Do you come here often?" That's her line. You can't curtsey. That would just be plain weird.

I seem to remember her uncertain half-smile. All she would have seen was a slack-jawed yokel in a charcoal Burton's suit gaping at her, panic in his eyes, sweat beading his forehead, his face a most peculiar colour.

I can't blame her if, as she finally made her way inside, the Queen briskly made a mental note never to visit this town again unless her close-protection team really upped its game and there were snipers positioned on every rooftop within a 600-yard radius.

A while ago, someone asked me who was the most famous person I'd ever met. "The Queen," I blurted out, without thinking it through.

"Really? What was she like to talk to?"

"Truth to tell," I responded, "I never quite got that far."