The worst kind of professional relationship is with the person you see twice a year, in a variety of different locations, because whatever they notice about you from that tiny observational sample, that’s what you’re like. So on the first rainy day in folk memory, the opening bars of Storm Austen, I turned up to a job with a photographer, soaked. I’d been on my bike and had tucked my trousers into my socks, so the accumulated water in the ankle area had seeped upwards, giving me a confusing wet leg-warmer effect, then a couple of dry inches, then an unbelievably wet rest........

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