Bursting at the seams

I had an early haircut whilst the parents were still cranking into action, and rejoined them for breakfast.

My hair was washed by a young woman who wants to study law at university then follow a new pathway to becoming a police detective that doesn't require a few years on the beat, as I believe is the current arrangement. She was only about 17, and her drive was impressive. I didn't have such clear ideas about my career at that age.

There was a South African woman called Ingrid in the chair next to me, who piped up when she heard me refer to Liberia, and said she enjoyed talking about the more obscure of African destinations. That was a nice interlude as the hairdresser put the finishing touches to my trim.

Later, gluttons for punishment, we wandered into Cambridge city centre again, and it was as bursting at the seams as the day before. The parents amused themselves at the Fitzwilliam Museum whilst I sought sanctuary in my office, as it was the only quiet place. I've really noticed since returning from Liberia how packed out Cambridge is. I'm going to be absolutely terrible with dealing with crowds when I'm 70.