The first thing the women all did when they boarded the plane in Tehran was to remove their headscarves. There was a rush for the loos when word went around that there were combs available, along with mirrors, and for the first time we saw people’s hair almost as nature intended.

Mine had to wait until I got home and washed out all the “strong-hold” hairspray which I had used for the last three weeks to glue my headscarf to my hair, being the only method I could find to keep the scarf in place. I put the scarf on while the spray was still wet and if I removed it during the day I needed to glue it back or it constantly slipped off.

I think that we all left wearing the coats which we had worn into the country, the clothing provided for us being hot, drab and infinitely shapeless. From the back we looked rather like clones of the Queen at Balmoral; all we needed was wellies and a few corgis to complete the picture of shapeless middle age in a coat and scarf.

It only needs wellies and a couple of corgis

We had been promised cotton mantos conforming to what people were wearing in Iran and had been very firmly discouraged from doing our own thing, on the grounds that anything we provided for ourselves would be too hot, not suitable, not in the latest fashion and not cotton. In fact, the garments provided were drab, unfashionable, very hot and certainly not cotton - I pulled a thread and melted it just to make sure.

I disobeyed the injunction and wore a cotton manto into the country and slipped a very light cotton one into my luggage. I wished that I’d taken more of them as I have about half a dozen very suitable cotton tops which I could have worn. As it was, I abandoned my tour-provided clothing very rapidly and was the only woman who was comfortable and cool. I also had pure cotton headscarves which were easier to keep on and relatively cool - if headscarf can ever be cool.

We kept running into school groups. Aren't they cute?

The way that the girls in the big cities dressed was a revelation to us. They obeyed the letter of the law by wearing headscarves perched on the backs of their heads, kept there by faith alone - or perhaps, like me, they used hairspray to help matters along. The mantos varied from tight to very, very tight, as did the trousers, and slut shoes or very high-heeled boots were very much in evidence. The mantos were certainly not the knee-length ones we had been told were mandatory, in fact they mostly just covered the butt.

Himself kept shouting "Get your camera", so I did

I had been told by a bookcrosser in Tehran that mantos this year were very short and tight and so long as I covered my butt I would be OK but didn’t want to dress too differently from the rest of the group and certainly during the long but trips and in the hot and humid parts of the country very tight clothes would have been extremely uncomfortable.

A lot of the women wore black chadors out in the street and perhaps that allowed more freedom to wear light clothes underneath. In some places one arm was left free with the chador pulled through under the arm and in other places it was all enveloping. I watched a proud husband take photographs of his young wife who was showing only her eyes and nose but perhaps it was the background shrine which was more important - been there, done that, worn the chador.

At least I didn't have to wear black