The year was 1986, when Madonna was telling her father not to tell her what to do, and life changed beyond my own imagination. The holiday had been planned for ages, but I had no desire to spend two terminally tedious weeks camping with my younger sisters. I had Mark, with his dark hair and warm lips, and I couldn't bear to leave him for a fortnight. He might fall under a bus, or worse, fall for Jayne Marsden and he stilletto heels.