This was one of the most interesting research seminars that I had ever attended: it was just like a circus performance. My favourite act was the set of extremely flexible women gymnasts. They all started off in crab position, tightly packed together. When they stood up straight again nearly all the members of the troupe had managed to switch body parts so that every top was matched with the bottom of someone else. If they could work on the last few disconnected pairs of legs and torsos that were left floundering on the stage, this act would surely take the world by storm.
As I was packing up afterwards, and struggling to untangle my vest from my shirt, ED dished out advice on social media. I assured her that I knew exactly what I was doing with my multiple Twitter accounts, and that she should not worry about my professional reputation (such as it was).
My plan was to travel home by bike. I didn’t have a map, but I was confident that I would find my way by following signposts to Edinburgh. My confidence was misguided – there was no signage – and before long I became completely lost. Then my bike started falling apart. By the time I reached the next village instead of the bike carrying me, I was forced to walk carrying bits of bike frame in my arms.
But I loved it here! It could have been just another of those drab, pebble-dashed Scottish border towns. However, the townspeople clearly had great pride in their high street, and every house was painted white or a pale pastel colour, and festooned with flowers. Beside the river there were signs for walking trails and bike tracks. Then I bumped into some people I knew: all the boys from the Weasley family. Ron looked about 13, so now I knew that I’d actually travelled back in time too. I vowed to come back here with TPR and the tandem in the present. I just needed to know the name of the place.
This, ladies and gentlemen, was new-look Aberdour!
Read more about Rupert Grint in Chasing Rupert Grint in the dark (Rousse).