I had overslept badly. It was 10.30am and I was in a sixth form common room on a Greek island. Fuddled, I went in search of a pot of tea and bumped into a friend who had serious news. Due to a clerical error, every time one of our party had exchanged currency it had been notched up against my passport. I was now wanted as a money-launderer and the Greek authorities were on their way to arrest me.
I was desperate. I tried to get friends to help me. One couple were too busy sitting on a hill watching amber stars burst into distant firework patterns. I asked the dry cleaner to help me but he refused. Only later when I woke up did I remember the dry cleaner was Turkish and probably unlikely to speak Greek.