Scene One: Tina is dressing for dinner; huffs and puffs as she puts on a frock, tights, shoes etc. Remote boat engine noise. Some sort of on-board TV documentary It’s a terrible thing to say, and I know Pat will go, [laughs] “Ooh, hark at Tina,” the way she’s done since we were five years old – “Ooh, hark at Tina, Mum!” – but I was sitting on my tod this morning, on the top deck, at dawn as it happens, blimey these tights are a bit short – oof! uff! – oh that’ll do, and I suddenly realised what goes wrong on these holidays Pat and me come on. Magic mascara. [Opens mascara] I love you. [While applying mascara] I’m not saying it wasn’t nice on the deck there, all by myself without my sister. I could see the banks of the deep blue lake chugging by. The sky’s all mauve. Chilly, mind, I took the blanket. Downstairs they were getting the breakfast sorted. And all round, as far as you could see, there was just desert – Nubia, can you believe it, grey Nubian desert all around this lake, grey – like the colour of the stuff you see spinning round in the Dyson and think, “Blimey, where did that lot come from?
