I picnicked with my sister-in-law JLR, her partner J, and daughter F on a heather heath in Glencoe. The moorland beyond us stretched for miles with not a soul in sight, save a small herd of deer. The only evidence of human intervention in this wild landscape were white painted signs warning of dangerous snow depths in hidden corries. These seemed somewhat redundant on a beautiful summer’s day.

When it was time to leave, we climbed into the open railway carriage for our journey back to civilisation. This form of transport was very rudimentary. It was our responsibility to keep the train wheels on the track. On a couple of occasions we almost failed in our duty.

My next commitment was a fund-raising ball for a cancer charity. All my friends agreed to come dressed in black and white. Some were quite daring: my university friend JS looked fabulous in the tiniest of striped mini skirts. The one issue with the ball was that many of us wanted to dance barefoot. This was impossible when there was so much broken glass on the dancefloor.

Not dressed in black and white was my school friend AL (now AW). Instead, she wore a billowing brown Indian smock over her large belly. I was mortified when she told me in answer to my enquiry about the baby’s due date that – despite appearances – she was not pregnant. It was with some relief, however, to learn that a woman called Lorna had put AL up to this with the aid of a couple of pillows. (Anyway, how could AL possibly be pregnant at the age of 58?)

I also asked after AL’s sister’s children. The son was doing well, but the daughter was fighting her case with the General Medical Council. She had been found guilty of using ChatGPT to cheat in the final assessments of her medical degree.