The ocean liner departure hall was overcrowded and really confusing, yet still I refused to ask for help. I only wanted to travel as far as Hatfield, but I didn’t know if my ship would be departing from the north- or the south-bound platform. I ran up and down wooden stairs to various levels hoping someone would offer advice. Eventually, I recognised the chef from Fawlty Towers who was now working as a steward. He pointed me in the right direction.

Later, I was back on board, this time to sit an exam. I was sitting in a tight corner in the cabin and writing a powerful essay about the re-use of corporate assets. I was going to be an accountant! The examination brochure was illustrated with irrelevant, black and white police crime photographs. In one, the hull of the very ship I was travelling on was photographed in dry dock, with post-it notes attached to it. Were those bullet holes?