I travelled to my new school in the passenger seat of my father’s acid green Ford Cortina estate car, squashed up to my best friend ECM (the only one of us wearing a seat-belt). On my lap I cradled a carrier bag stuffed with transparent yellow plastic ring-binders.

ECM was meant to be looking after me. However, she revealed that she was giving up all such responsibilities as soon as we entered the playground. I would have to fend for myself.

As she marched away from me I flung her the worst possible insult that I could muster: ‘Your ears are too big and you look like Minnie Mouse!’