Among people who work from home, it’s something of a theme that still wearing pyjamas mid-afternoon is not uncommon. I often commit this sin of sloth as well, but not today. Today, to get myself in the mood for several hours of writing, I’ve elected to wear a school uniform.

I bought a new kilt last week, so I’m wearing it with my shirt, sweater and tie; my hair is in a single plait down my back. The only thing I can’t decide is whether I’m a timid first-year, pouring all my attention into unfamiliar big-school prep so that I don’t have to find out, for the first time ever, what the slipper feels like – or whether I am, in fact, a prefect, about to be distracted from my work by a miscreant reporting for punishment.

Both options are equally tantalising. I haven’t played out the latter before, and I don’t know how well it would work. Would I be overly frustrated when no miscreant, in fact, turns up?

I’ll see how it goes for the rest of the day, but I think I’ll go with the prefect fantasy for now.