We two brothers (plus dog) climbed into the car. Each of us believed that it was the other who had arranged to be picked up by this strange man and his daughter. Before long, however, we established though some frantic hand gesturing and a muttered half-conversation in French that neither of us knew this couple. When the car pulled up to stop at the lights at the foot of Leith Walk we saw our chance to escape.

We threw the dog out first, my brother jumped out next, and I followed. Our captors were furious that they had lost us. In revenge they instructed an on-coming lorry to run me over. I lay still on the tarmac as the massive truck thundered over me. I was lucky not to have been crushed to death.

We eventually hailed a taxi to take us home. As we crossed Princes Street at the Mound our driver (in a Newcastle United shirt) instructed us on household safety devices. He was particularly keen that we should fit chains on every door in our flat as soon as we reached home.