‘Ten thousand thundering typhoons!’ I curse loudly as my head crashes into a concrete beam in the darkness.

I’m deep in the bowels of the unexplored netherworld beneath our house, sweat pouring off me, filthy and dirty, crawling through brick crevasses and frantically prising open ancient trunks looking for hidden treasure; much like Tintin and Captain Haddock in the final pages of The Secret of the Unicorn.