Somehow I kept adding to my list of lovesick middle-aged men. Each one ignored my very married state. They all independently believed that with a little persuasion my resistance would collapse and I would leave my husband.

I lay in the huge bed with this one whimpering to the left of me. JC, in on my secret as always, slept to the right of us. She knew that nothing ever came of these liaisons and was waiting for this one to run its course. I eventually persuaded this man that there was no point in begging me any further, we got up, and set off to find my family on Holy Island.

To reach the house you had to slide down the grassy bank on an old fertiliser bag. It was important that you controlled your speed, otherwise you risked over-shooting your target and tipping over the massive cliff to a certain death on the beach below.

We managed our ride reasonably well. However, the elderly couple who chose to travel by cast-iron Victorian clawfoot tub bath gathered so much speed that they landed far out in middle of the freezing North Sea. We prayed that the coast guard would reach them in time.