The seagull swooped over our heads displaying its booty. I couldn’t believe it. How had the sandwich scavanger managed to steal someone’s Mastercard? At closer range I saw that the card was an A4 replica. It was just a fake for a TV commercial shoot. I extracted the “card” from the bird’s beak to keep as a souvenir.

So who else knew about logarithms? Those schooled in the 1970s knew what I was talking about, and the 1960s schoolchildren proudly boasted how they passed O level maths without the aid of a calculator. Anyone under the age of 30 was banned from participating in our erudite conversation.

Even though our new house was enormous, it had not occurred to me that it might be a hotel. How annoying that each night we had to reserve our table for dinner. The first night other guests were expected so I made an effort with my dress. I wore my pink brocade frock and matching patent leather pumps. The next day I sunbathed in the garden looking out for neighbours. The posh family who owned the adjoining estate drove past in their open-top stretch Bentley, huddled under a pile of furs, apparently oblivious to the heat. Later in the day I looked forward to the arrival of my nephew P, niece A, and their triplet baby siblings.