I’d won a coveted invitation to JK Rowling’s house in South Queensferry. She invited me to sit at the table with five others to discuss “business”, but before long I’d been distracted into talking trivia. I could tell that our hostess was no longer interested in what I was saying because she started to yawn and then perform yoga, drawing her foot over her head and trying to get her toes into her mouth.

Afterwards we were allowed to venture into PotterLand. A character in her wedding gown led us up to the ride. I commented that she would have to be careful never to put on weight if this was her work uniform. I also asked how she managed to keep it clean. She replied that she washed and dried it every night.

The ride was amazing. I was convinced that we were flying over Fife, but the bride in white assured me that this was only a simulation.