Everyone was seeking my advice on their artistic endeavours. First my boss asked my opinion of her latest magazine column. I had absolutely nothing to say about the content. It was composed in Gaelic and I couldn’t understand a word of it. I did, however, venture the criticism that the tiny typeface was barely legible.

Then I was approached by OM, who was making printed T shirts for the students. He’d got as far as the basic design, but needed some witty wording to stretch across the back. “How about a coded message in Java?” I suggested. Then I remembered that I had come across a whole web page of computing-related one-liners in the summer. I couldn’t remember the URL, but I knew someone who would have kept a record of it. I set off to find my mother. Although completely preoccupied with a hen weekend for one of her best friends, she confirmed that she had the web address somewhere in her Hotmail. Indeed, she had it on paper too – because, as might be expected, she lovingly prints out every e-mail message that I ever send to her.