The hotel brochure displayed page after page of glossy photographs of bright young things enjoying Alpine conditions on the nearby Scottish ski slopes. This gave the impression of glamour, when in reality the hotel itself was little more than a youth hostel.

I was in trouble with the staff because I had wandered around the public rooms all day in a red onesie. They were in trouble with me for allowing a middle-aged blonde woman to light up in the dining room. I made myself even less popular when I screeched “That cow is smoking. Get her out of here!”