My last two trips across the city on my motorbike from Merchiston had been fraught with danger. On the first I rode with my eyes closed (I was tired) and could have easily taken out any other road user or pedestrian. On the second I was TPR’s passenger. He disregarded any aspects of the Highway Code that interfered with his journey, such as waiting for the traffic lights to change at busy junctions.

Now I was much safer, travelling by bus with my precious cargo of smart work clothes, including a blue Brenish Tweed jacket and my Christian Lacroix suit. My school friend GT was with me, fully expecting to be asked if she wanted my cast-off clothes. However, she wouldn’t hear such an offer. This was because I was going to wear these clothes with sparkles across my tummy. I just had to find my box of black sequins, which was rolling around somewhere on the floor of the bus.