When I was in my teens, my sister and I would often get the bus into Brighton – a thirty minute journey, sometimes alone, sometimes together. We lived opposite a man who was a neighbourly acquaintance of my dad and mum. Occasionally if my sister or I were travelling on the bus by ourselves, he would sit next to us and talk. The bus used to pass by a ladies underwear shop and he would make comments to us, such as “do you wear a bra yet?” or “do you like those knickers?”. Of course we would just ignore him, but it was creepy and we would always try to avoid him. The final straw for me came one day when I was alone on the bus sitting upstairs – he sat next to me and opened out the Sun to Page 3. He asked me what I thought of her. Did I want to be a model like that? I was 14 at the time. I was so upset and disgusted I couldn’t speak. I told my parents about it and they were shocked, but of course, in those days (the mid seventies) people didn’t report stuff like that. A few months later when my sister and I were in the car with my mum about to leave from outside our house – he came over to say hello. He seemed surprised when we blanked him.