In the office this afternoon: a young lady saying to my neighbour,

“I think I’ll need some dutch courage before tonight.”

(What *was* she going to be doing? And why was I left thinking about a girl fortifying herself with a swig of vodka in the dorm before her pyjama-clad walk to her appointment with the Housemaster? And of what might have happened had he realised?)

And now, on the train, just behind me. Four loud ex-public school friends; one’s just observed:

“It was enough to get me sent to the Headmaster”

(Flicking rubber bands, apparently. At whom, I haven’t been able to establish. But they’re posh enough and of the right age for me to guess the consequences…)