Only my sister S knew the route north, but she was not to be trusted on her own on a scooter. The solution to getting home in one piece was for us to join our two vehicles together. That way she would lead us, and I would keep her speed in check.

All was going well until we reached the final stretches of the M1 in North Yorkshire. Here I got distracted and my naughty little sister sped off without me.

I felt terrible for losing her, but who could ignore the tiny men, standing on ponies, on top on horses, balanced upon the lamps above the carriageway? How had they climbed up there? More importantly, how would they ever get down again alive? And where were the emergency services when you needed them most?