'Hi Mom, I'm very good and miss you as always. See, I even write a letter to you a week ahead of the deadline. How are you? How's Dad? I hope his leg's better. What doctors say?

Don't worry about Margie and my feelings towards her: I'm sure, in a year time she'll become only a distant memory for me, no more.

And my Iraqi trip delayed, my newspaper now think that I'd better stay in London and cover some glamour stuff - you know, all this celebrity stuff - and all this because of my interview with one of the models I described earlier, so you can load off your mind and relax in full.

Love you, Rob.'

He phoned her couple of days after the party. During their conversation, he suddenly imagined how tiny the mobile used to look in her hand, and it made him weak. Nevertheless, he gathered himself and asked her to come along to the paper office to make photos ahead of the interview. Unfortunately, he couldn't be there at the time: he covered anti-war rally in Central London, but when he came back, he found an e-mail by the photographer. Apparently, the guy was extremely excited: he wrote Robin that the girl was 'absolutely amazing', not only because of her height 'which itself is a priceless asset', but also her professionalism: 'she must try herself as a model, man!'

Then he called her again, and the next afternoon they met in a restaurant, and he conducted an interview. Before that, off the record, he finally asked her full name (it was essential for the story, of course), her age and - breathlessly again - her exact height.

He learnt that Breta Sorenssen, 26, was born and grew up in Sweden, that she stood (oh God!) seven feet eleven and a half inches tall, fortunately ceased to grow up five or six years ago, that she was a professional model, that she has met Nick in Japan, they had some sort of romantic relationship, but it didn't last long because after they came back Nick immediately fell in love with her younger sister. He also learnt that, unlike himself, Nick was a huge fan of very tall women, and this fact could have been a reason for him to dump Breta because while her sister was shorter than her, she was still growing.

The interview was an exploded bomb. Indeed, it provoked plenty of feedback and even a cash bonus in envelope signed by editor-in-chief. But more important, it made him famous: no one before had an open conversation with eight feet tall beauty, let alone exposed her dreams and feelings of being literally standing out of a crowd. There was not a text-only version: a full height colour picture with scale on it on the front page, and four more inside, including the girl's head and shoulders close-up, the girl with members of general public, the girl with a tall man in a smart suit next to her (up to her armpits), and the girl at the entrance of underground car park on Park Lane with crossbar stated 'Head room 6 ft - 183 cm' right under her breasts.

The last one was Robin's favourite; somehow, he felt an instant turn on whenever he saw it - and he did see it quite regularly. Do I have something in common with Nick's fetish? he thought. He didn't know the answer and didn't want to know, he just enjoyed the picture and Breta's company time after time.