‘Now,’ said Catherine, ‘I think we should all introduce ourselves. We’ll go round the circle and I’m going to ask each of you to tell us your name and where you come from and to say something – quite briefly, please – about what you hope to achieve during the next five days and what, if any, experience of writing you’ve had – whether you’ve had, or tried to have, anything published, for instance. It doesn’t in the least matter if you’ve had no experience at all, it’s just helpful for me to know.’

She looked round the room. ‘So . . . as you know, I’m Catherine. I live in London. I used to teach English in a girls’ school but now I’m a freelance journalist and critic, and I do some broadcasting as well. I’ve had six collections of poetry published and also edited a collection of excerpts from the diaries of explorers down the ages and I teach creative writing to mature students which I love doing. I’m constantly humbled and impressed by the talent of my pupils and I’m very pleased to be here with you all in this beautiful place. I hope we’re going to have a really enjoyable and creative time together.’ She looked at the person on her right, a smallish middle-aged man, swarthy of complexion, with hair parted so low on one side that the parting was level with his ear, from which point strands of his dark hair had been carefully plastered across the top of his head in a vain attempt to disguise incipient baldness.

Catherine gave him an encouraging nod. ‘Now it’s your turn,’ she said. ‘Will you carry on next please and tell us about yourself and why you’ve chosen to come on this course?’