In Edinburgh recently I fell into conversation with a young shop assistant. The place was quiet, with no other customers, and as she dealt with my purchase she opened up about herself. Then, when she learned that I had studied one of the same subjects she is taking at university, she came alive. Telling me about her degree, and her aspirations for when she graduates, which included a Plan A and a Plan B, she admitted that she was torn about what direction to take. I found myself making what I hoped were sensible suggestions, even though I was aware that I must seem like a relic of a past era. Which indeed I am.

Nevertheless, after we had chatted for a while, she asked if I would be happy to speak to one of her friends, who wants to become a writer. Since my own working life has unfolded in fits and starts as I’ve stumbled from one job to another – bookshops, libraries, publishers and newspapers – I was a little taken aback.

What possible wisdom could a pinball like me have to offer? I remember a computerised questionnaire I filled out as a final-year student which delivered the verdict that I was most suited to be a merchant banker or an advocate. As my husband says, where did it all go wrong? Nevertheless, I said yes, of course I would talk to her friend.

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Whether she will get in touch remains to be seen. But what struck me when I finally left the shop was that this was not the first time I’ve........

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