Meeting my husband’s parents for the first time, both gave me a hug, leaning in to the left, then right, so their faces brushed each cheek.
Parents of my two previous boyfriends had simply smiled and said hello, which to me preferable.
As it turned out, the huggers were the least warm and welcoming of the three sets of parents, and, aside from the embrace they gave on every occasion we met, they were not in the slightest bit interested in getting to know me, even when I eventually married their son.
My husband grew up with hugging and a kiss on each cheek. He spent much of his childhood in Holland. “It’s a common way to greet someone on the continent,” he told me, when I questioned the tactile rituals.
Where I was raised, in North East England, hugging, especially hugging people you had never met before, would have raised eyebrows. If I’d seen either of my parents hugging anyone other than immediate family I’d have worried they were having an affair.
Even the local - strongly suspected but never 100 per cent verified - swingers were never seen hugging when greeting each other. In the 1960s and 70s we weren’t a nation of huggers, and those who did it certainly didn’t do it in public, with strangers.
My school friends and I never hugged, and even at university in London, where behaviour was more liberated, there was very little of it.
Now everyone hugs. Friends hug, work colleagues hug, casual acquaintances hug, complete strangers hug. In fact, greeting a stranger with a hug rather than a handshake could make them like you more.
A study carried out by academics found that, of people who received a hug from the person they'd just met, more than three-quarters were more friendly towards them, even agreeing to look at their holiday snaps.
Among those who were not hugged, only 52 per cent agreed to look at the photos.
Granted, it’s a bizarre and slightly bonkers piece of research - in today’s not-so-safe society, what sane thinker would hug someone they’ve just met? Maybe if you’re filming for Long Lost Family, but not otherwise.
It’s also worth noting that the study was carried out by the University of California, where people probably hug everyone who crosses their path, from their partner to the Deliveroo driver.
We Brits hug to excess, resulting in some boundaries being crossed. Everyone has experienced some unwanted body lurching forward unexpectedly, to envelope them in a bear hug. “No offence, I’m a hugger,” they will say, smiling, palms raised, if it backfires. A licence to maul, it could be said.
Unsolicited hugs used to be limited to work gatherings, Christmas parties and New Year events, but even bumping into someone you vaguely know in Tesco is enough to warrant a hug and maybe an air kiss or two. We can’t resist the urge.
During lockdown, hugging was one of the things people in Britain missed most, with almost half of people questioned in a survey by electrical retail firm AO.com describing themselves as huggers.
I’m not a natural hugger, not even of family, but if I am on the receiving end I’d rather it was my nearest and dearest. A year or so ago I was taken by surprise and hugged by a door-to-door salesman after I bought a set of drain unblocking rods. He probably thought it was the right tactic as I went on to buy an overpriced bag of dusters, but it was more to get rid of him.
I’ve also been guilty of dishing out unwanted hugs. A very casual acquaintance I met in the bank recently appeared to be saying goodbye with a hug, reaching his arm across to my shoulder, so I hugged him back, only to see a horrified look appear on his face. I totally misinterpreted his body language.
It’s best to hold back, especially with strangers.