I stabled the grey mare in my new hall of residence bedroom with a degree of reluctance. First I was dubious as to the ‘legality’ of keeping a horse on campus. I also harboured concerns over my skills as a horsewoman.

KP tried to reassure me. She planned to bring her own horse down from Driffield as soon as she was settled in, and was looking forward to leading our rides.

Then the call went out for a group curry outing. Two car-fulls of new students whooped out of the hall of residence drive, straight past the weeping parents (who were now heading home having dropped their children off for their first term at university).

A 13 year-old was at the wheel of the car that carried me.  Someone assured us that this girl was super-bright, hence her early admission as an undergraduate. I argued this did not guarantee well-developed driving skills. Nevertheless, we all arrived in one piece at the rather shabby curry house.

Amongst the other diners were several of my school friends, including one sporting a very late pregnancy. They all took great care to hug me on the right hand side only, conscious of my recent operation.

(Meanwhile I tried to remember exactly what I had been up to the night before with TPR, my parents, and KNX. Whatever the details, I knew that our frolics would not make polite dinner conversation.)