£12 was an absolute bargain for two freshly landed salmon, especially when the fishmonger offered to gut them free of charge. On the way home we picked up the frozen peas that I had left in the pub car park before Christmas. The distinctive way in which the metal tie was twisted around the bag confirmed that it was ours. Something that we hadn’t considered properly at the fishmongers was how we would store the fish between now and the parties. There was no space in our freezer (otherwise we would not have been obliged to scatter our supplies of frozen vegetables around town). We rang VJ to ask if she had room for our catch. She thought not, but invited us over to check. It was a real slog across the sand dunes, and TPR lost his footing a couple of times, but once we discovered the path on the golf course the route became more obvious.

I didn’t make it to VJ’s house. Distracted by the prospect of a fabulous new cleaner, I took root on the doorstep of the rumoured superwoman. Before long a blond woman about my age invited me inside and introduced me to three others almost identical to her in looks. They were the cleaner, two more sisters, and their mother. A few children, also very alike, emerged from behind the furniture. It was a good sign that the house was neat and tidy, even though the adults were smokers. All was going so well when the house suddenly jolted and I realised that this family lived in an enormous camper van. They were setting off on their travels, and I was their stowaway! Although I was not told where our journey would take us, I recognised the destination from the shape of the mountains, the little row of shops along the sea front, and the colour of the sand on the beach. We’d crossed to the Isle of Mull. While I quite liked this family, and I love the Hebrides, I was still expected at VJ’s house. I asked the oldest sister how I could leave politely, but she regretted that this was impossible. I had been unknowingly abducted to star in a new Channel 4 documentary combining aspects of Wife swap and Faking it. In panic I reached for my iPhone to call for help. Of course, this was a hopeless act. I should have known that you can never get a reliable signal in the Hebrides.