Louise’s old workmates gave us a wee stuffed giraffe to take with us. Little did we know, or they warn us, that (s)he is a raging alcoholic. No sooner did we turn our backs in Belgium then he was out in the sun on the spare wheels, hoarding some whisky.

The critter’s got a life of his own though. He soon disappeared back into the surf, only to reappear in France, on a snowboard with his trusty tipple, riding off pieste towards Mont Blanc.

I’m pleased to say we found him later in the day, having only moved a matter of metres since we last saw him.