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inside me – not a voice exactly, but a deep-seated compulsion – that strives for perfection. But it’s my own version of perfection, not to be perfect per se but just to be the best that I can be. That can lead to unnatural and excessive pressure. Sometimes I have difficulty being in the now, being present. I constantly worry, am I making the most out of this, am I making the most out of this, instead of just accepting and enjoying what is .
    It does, though, make the pride and euphoria all the more intense when you do achieve something special. For me, that achievement came in the shape of a first-class degree in geography. I achieved the highest grade ever recorded in the department, and was awarded the title of University Scholar, 1998. My dissertation was published in a journal. When my family came to the graduation ceremony, I felt confident that I had followed my father’s advice to make the most of every opportunity. With so many good friends graduating the same day, it was a very special occasion.
    But the passing-out ceremony that stands out in my mind was the girls’ trip to Magaluf that I went on that summer with three of my best friends from university. It was the apotheosis of my fledgling drinking career, and remains so to this day. Certainly, it bore precious little resemblance to the life I lead now, or indeed did then, even after I had embraced drinking as a pastime. My friend Emily broke her leg on the first night going up the steps to a nightclub, and spent the rest of the week in plaster. Not that it stopped her, or the rest of us. It was a week of the purest debauchery – drinking, sunbathing, drinking, meeting boys, drinking and drinking. Self-control was abandoned for the week, and I have to say it felt good. I had just achieved more than I could ever have imagined at university, so I had earned this time off the leash. I think of that week with a special fondness, maybe because I have never, before or since, just let myself go in such a gratuitous fashion. I did enjoy it, but it could never have lasted.

 
    3
     
    In Search of Myself
     
    My initial plan after university was to become a lawyer. At the time, that was what I thought I wanted.
    Lovell White Durrant accepted me on a week-long work placement in their London offices that summer. I found the work interesting and challenging, and I enjoyed the social side. Working in the City was novel. I had never lived in London before. As always, I was hugely enthusiastic and determined to make the most of this opportunity.
    But I would be lying if I said I was particularly enthralled by corporate law. And during that week I found myself working on cases in defence of big companies whose causes I wouldn’t have chosen – mobile phone companies, for example, who were contesting claims about the health effects of their devices. That did sow a seed of doubt, but generally I was happy with the path I had chosen. I am analytical and thorough and I love meeting people, so the law seemed to be a good fit. I have a high boredom threshold, too. All of which pointed towards a potentially successful career.
    Lovells offered me a two-year training contract. First, though, I would have to take a law conversion course, so I applied to Nottingham University and was accepted for the start of the following academic year. I had a good twelve months to fill, so I decided to go travelling.
    All summer, I had worked as a lifeguard at Centre Parcs and Thetford Sports Centre – not exactly Baywatch , but it was a wage. I was saving money more than I was saving lives, put it that way. After I’d cashed in a few Premium Bonds, and with some money Mum and Dad had given me for my eighteenth birthday, I managed to gather together about £3,000 for my trip.
    My preparations didn’t stop at that, though. I had a friend at Birmingham called Nick Wellings, who also happened to be a fellow native of Norfolk, hailing from Norwich. He had taken a gap year before university and