On the day that we packed the car and crossed back over to the mainland we discovered that X and Y had also spent their summer holiday on the Isle of Mull. It was a pity we hadn’t known earlier that we’d been in such close proximity. However, I was still grateful for their company because after a week together my entire family was now ignoring me. At least I’d now have someone new to talk to on the journey home.

Unfortunately X and Y displayed an attitude to me that was very similar to that of my sisters. They barely tolerated my chatter. This was so annoying when there was such a lot to discuss:

• the recent death of Y’s sister – she’d suffered a heart attack, and with her husband already dead her two daughters were now orphans;
• TPR’s apparent loss of interest in me – he hovered around us in his strange outfit of bright orange shirt under a black suit, but clearly did not want to engage in any conversations (most likely in a sulk because I was due in the US the following week);
• books we had just read – a staple of our conversations in the past.

Even when I pointed out the huge shark that passed back and forth under our flimsy kayaks as we paddled up-river, neither of them flinched.