To begin with I thought that this would be a very long journey: to Birmingham first, then on to London by train. Then I noticed the boy with the wires hanging out of his anorak. Instead it could be a very short journey indeed.

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It was as if we were sewn into our clothes. My sister J and I really struggled to get undressed before climbing into our lovely big baths. Afterwards the cabinet ministers (or were they journalists?) seated at the coffee tables gave us funny looks. Was it because we had possibly bathed in the men’s section? Or perhaps I’d left a little tide-line of Uig sand at the bottom of my bath-tub? SK was there to observe our faux pas.

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We had the option of the dubbed or “version originale” of the French film. My school friend JP (now JC) took charge and led us into the screen which showed the latter. My heart sank: TPR would not be pleased.