The scariest teeth I’ve known belonged to a Grade 7 teacher called Mr Campbell. They dominated his face in the same way as Mister Ed’s – horsey and over-sized. In fearsome combination with his gravelly baritone, (which exploded like a sonic boom when angry), choirmaster Campbell and his big choppers are all I remember about singing lessons.

To my four-foot nothing, his six-foot something appeared gargantuan. He strode around the music room on his leg-stilts with his head cocked to one side, straining to indentify which one of us was out of tune. My thin soprano would peter out to a squeak as soon as Mr Campbell leaned over and put his ear to my mouth. Unimpressed, he would restore himself to his full height and grimace before moving on to find the owner of the flat notes.