I was impatient to join the others at the Oxford University reunion. Meanwhile my friend P was hesitating. I was keen to get through the door and track down any single men. P wanted to wait a while to see if her 80 year-old mother would turn up.

When it became obvious that P’s mother would not be joining us, we walked gingerly over the cobbles and down to the hall. It was hard work to stay upright in our ludicrous black satin high-heeled shoes. Once through the door we found that the others were not as welcoming as we had hoped. I concluded that this was poor hunting ground for a new husband: all the single men here were gay.

On my way home again I met a German woman in the street. She told me that she was interested in making new friends. I took her to the shop where the German hippies sold imported goods from India, and promised to introduce her to my friend WB later.