On the basis of his sudden disappearance, it was obvious to me that TPR had been lying when he said that all he wanted in life was to have me to himself. I wandered around the Manor House reunion on my own, lingering for a while next to the string quartet that was working its way through the repertoire of the Pasadena Roof Orchestra.

Later, a young man attempted to chat me up. His strategy was to compliment my yellow Crocs, ask to try them on, and the delight in the ‘amazing co-incidence’ that our feet were about the same size. Unfortunately for him, I was not in the market for a relationship with a small-footed man.

Finally I received a text from TPR. Although somewhat garbled, I was able to make out from it that he had just returned from a day trip by car to Fleet. When I found TPR in the corridor, dressed in suit and tie under his hooded Barbour jacket, he explained that he had attended a job interview with a computer company called Alacrity.

Just as I was pointing out the insanity of his plans to re-enter the job market (especially given that I had recently given up my own job so that we could spend more time together), TPR received a phone call from the interview panel. He wasn’t the type of candidate that they were seeking after all.