We are on a well-deserved break and my husband has just struck up a conversation with the older couple renting the unit next to us. 

While they discuss the minutiae of the surf and scenery at past holiday destinations, I slink into the bedroom to bury myself in my book.

I spend my working life listening to people and their stories, often wishing they would leave out the extra detail. I guess it is no surprise I avoid the potential for such encounters.

There’s the added risk our holiday neighbours will find out I’m a doctor, and the chance they’ll tell me all about their woes and even ask a medical favour of me. And I will have nowhere to hide.