In this topsy-turvy world the sun hadn’t risen for weeks and the streets were under snow, even though the calendar told us that it was the middle of the summer. It was so cold outside that the thick soles of Dr Martens barely protected your feet from the frozen pavements. I was staying in a dormitory with DT and KJ, where there was so little space that we were all forced to sleep in shifts. This was no way to live.

On this day there was so much to do. From the dorm window I could see the moon racing across the sky, occasionally illuminated by the light of the sun that we on earth saw no more. I was desperate to photograph it. I’d also booked a table for lunch at the restaurant across the road with one of my dorm pals and my friend PM, but hadn’t managed to find a suitable bottle of wine to take along. Then I was waylaid in the canteen by half a dozen of Teesside High School’s Upper V 1978/9 (including ED, CC, CR, and RL) and a cute baby that TPR required me to return to its parents in a shoe box.

Still stuck in the canteen and wondering if I would ever reach my lunch date, a senior member of staff from my own institution sought my advice as to whether or not he should interview a candidate without a PhD for an academic post. I lied when I replied, making up some nonsense about Sheffield University’s open recruitment policies. In my honest opinion, anyone appointed to the level in question should hold the highest academic qualifications – only I didn’t have the courage to say so.