I was travelling on the old East London Line from New Cross and I was weighed down with boxes of vinyl records and plastic bags and goodness knows what. The dog was off the lead and I spent the entire journey worrying about where he was. It would be just like him to get off every time the doors opened so I had to shout his name loudly like a lunatic at every station. At one point there was a public service announcement that an animated character was now back online, and several trendy young men took out their iPhones and other devices with an air of celebration. I shook my head at them. Let them have their games. I had a boxful of 1970s Top of the Pops tribute albums, and more besides.

We were travelling to see C and D who were now living in a big house overlooking the A1. I was embarrassed about how much I was carrying. It seemed to have expanded and C had to help me out of the station. As we watched out of her upstairs window, Lassie was causing chaos, crossing eight lanes of traffic and sometimes climbing over the cars. I tutted and then remembered something. Where was my dog?