Trips like this one always used up more time than I allowed for, and more than anyone else might expect. As well as the four days of actual travel (two there, two home again) there were the days spent preparing for the trip, writing and rewriting the text of my lecture, worrying about it, worrying about the journey, feeling distracted by having to go away. Work on my latest novel had been hopelessly disrupted and I knew that when I finally returned home, more days would be lost as I tried to pick up the thread from where I had left off. My publisher had also just sent me proofs of my last one, which needed to be checked. I find it impossible to concentrate on work when travelling, so I had left them at home.

There was also the weather. I had been warned of sub-arctic temperatures even during the days, requiring heavily insulated outer wear. I had had to order this specially, and although the agreed expenses refund included a contribution to the cost, it was a contribution only. The padded coat, hood, trousers, were so bulky they required an extra case, which I had had to pay for as hold baggage on both aircraft, making a total of four baggage charges in all.

My first flight had been early. The plane had taken off at about four a.m., but that was a short internal flight only, followed by a long wait. The second plane, to Tristcontenta Hub, had suffered a delayed take-off because of an adverse wind forecast, which meant there was a chance I might miss my connection. In practice I was still able to catch the train with time to spare, but I knew there was only one sleeper train per day and I had no idea what I would have done if I had missed it. Apart from a snack at the airport, and another snack during the flight, I had eaten hardly anything all day.

All of this was stress I could have done without. My first-class compartment was modern, clean and compact, but I felt strangely isolated. Once or twice I had ventured out into the corridor, hoping to see a steward or some of the other passengers, but there was no one about. It was almost as if I were the only one on board.

The invitation to the University of Dearth, in Dearth City, the administrative centre of Dearth Island, had arrived more than eighteen months earlier. The name was not appealing. I knew little about Dearth, and had no ambitions to visit the place – I knew it only by its reputation for long, storm-riven winters and an economy based on heavy engineering and mining.