I hoped that that those travelling in the morning traffic out of North Berwick towards the A1 and west into Edinburgh passed by at a sufficient speed not to notice our antics on a stranger’s garden wall. Afterwards we considered stopping for breakfast in one of the town’s quaint deli-cafés, but instead went directly to the station to catch a train to Glasgow.

At the other end of the line at Queen Street we were greeted by our gay arch-Brexiteer friend IS. While his views on Europe had not shifted, we were surprised to meet his new wife, especially since I recognised her as my former colleague EW. She then introduced her daughter, who told us that her name was Martin. I knew that was really called E or L.

While we hung around the station, TF invited me to take a quick spin around the forecourt. I was impressed with his new ballroom dancing skills, but not his horrible brown suede slip-on shoes with red woolly socks.