I went to the loo earlier and slightly misjudged the distance while I was positioning myself on the seat. This reminded me vividly of another, terrifying, toilet-related near miss the other night in the pub.

There wasn’t an accessible toilet so, leaving my chair at the entrance to the Ladies, I walked in with Zoë’s help. As I approached the cubicle I let go of her arm and wobbled in on my own. But I immediately dropped down, my knees hit the floor, and I lurched forwards, with my head heading straight towards the toilet bowl!

I steadied myself just in time, but found myself staring straight into the pan. I can testify that the sight of a pub toilet that close on a Friday night is distinctly unnerving.

Despite my other recent toilet dramas involving grab rails, trouser-logistics I’d like to reassure everyone that I manage perfectly well most of the time.