I was glad I had swapped my light grey, suavely cut “Francis” suit for a more sombre, square shouldered “Tony”, as dark attire was definitely the order of the day. Everyone looked older. I saw a particularly wizened specimen with silver hair in a dark trench coat in the large mirror of the reception room, before realising it was me.

It was a jolly-ish occasion, nevertheless, seeing everyone again and reminiscing.