I set off for home across town after my swim at the Edinburgh International Conference Centre with wet hair, and wearing nothing but a worn-out green towel.

I knew that I looked like a tramp, and at first I didn’t care. But then people started to stare at me so I hailed a taxi to take me home. Once installed on the back seat of the car it dawned on me that I did not have any cash to pay the driver, nor the keys to my flat.

I rerouted the driver through the New Town. VJ would have to bail me out yet again.