Much to my disdain, I was born at Queen Mary’s Hospital in Sidcup when Sidcup was part of Kent.  I was always a bit envious of my peers born at Farnborough Hospital, which, to my mind, was a better start in life.  It sounded nicer than Sidcup, which, whenever we drove through, seemed to be between places; it wasn’t a destination; it was a place one went through and therefore was not a place for starting anything, let alone a life, my life.

What could be done? Nothing. It was as it was.