It would be extremely rude to present a research seminar barefoot, especially in the company of DW who was always so well turned-out. So we spent hours hunting for a neat pair of black loafers (or similar) at the top of a corn field and in the village of Marcillat (France), relocated to Aberdeenshire (Scotland). The closest we came was a pair of size 3 leather StartRites, but these were far too small.

Time was marching on so we were forced to give up our shoe quest and travel by rail to Aberdeen for the seminar. A station staff mix-up rooted in the belief that DW and I were 18 year-olds awaiting A level results meant that we were directed onto the wrong train. The only way to stop it was to pull the emergency cord. Neither of us had the guts to do this, but a middle-aged woman recognised our distress and took action. It was all pretty pointless really because by now we’d never make it to the venue in time, even if we abandoned the train and caught a flight instead.

The irony, of course, was that we obsessed so much over shoes that we happily ignored the rest of my outfit. Under my short black silk cocktail dress I wore nothing at all (unless you counted the 2005 Edinburgh Fringe ticket that I found in the pocket). Surely there would be important minimum dress requirements for presenting a research seminar, and one of these would be the wearing of underwear?