I was in New York in a downpour. A man on stilts wearing a bright red commissionaire’s uniform was holding an umbrella over a gentleman’s pit bull as they crossed the road. As they got closer to me, I saw the commissionaire wasn’t on stilts but was actually standing on the shoulders of another similarly uniformed commissionaire.

In New York I was living in an apartment that doubled as a restaurant and I kept cooking their leftover steaks and moaning about how they tasted ‘American’.

A friend’s ex husband wanted me to tell all the other men (my flatmate’s boyfriends) to leave the apartment and I made it very clear I would do no such thing and eventually told him to leave, using mainly swear words.

I suddenly remembered that one of my flatmates (JW) had been in the army. Now she was an artist. Her paintings of cliched gypsy caravans made me cringe but apparently made her a lot of money.

Then my ex-boyfriend turned up and started swallowing hormone replacement tablets.