I was curious about the man I discovered was living on the top floor of our house. He had walked into the lounge and – without uttering a word – gripped my wrist tightly and stared into my eyes.

“He’s Angelo Rossini”, whispered my sister. How attractive he was, with his floppy long hair and skinny jeans! I lay in the bath – fully clothed – to shave my hairy legs in readiness for our inevitable tryst. This was going to take a long time as all I had to hand was a nose hair clipper.