As was the tradition, my colleagues were in Glasgow staffing the National Museum of Scotland on 2nd January so that the museum staff could take an extra day off. Already there was trouble at the entrance. One of my colleagues claimed that BD was unqualified to act as doorman. I successfully argued his case, then headed down to the station.

There I found JC, who announced that her new year resolution was to take up smoking. NB and I were appalled. As JC lit up she explained that menthol cigarettes were essential to her new diet. I wondered whether dying her lovely brown hair an awful shade of pale ginger was also a requirement of this ridiculous regime.

I then turned to my own needs. I was desperate for a boyfriend. FR of Strathclyde University was supposedly fulfilling this role, but it was so long since I had seen him that I had actually forgotten what he looked like. When my retired colleague BC approached me for a new year kiss I didn’t recognise the grey-bearded swarthy man behind him. Somehow I did not think this relationship would work. Perhaps my only option now was to give in to PL?

Then I remembered that I was married to TPR and didn’t need I boyfriend after all. I set off along the riverside path to another, rural, railway station for the next train back to Edinburgh where I would find my husband.