The bed creaked as the enormous dark-haired woman clambered over to my side. “Get off!” I demanded. “When TPR and I bought this big bed it was just for the two of us. You’re not welcome. I want to read the Sunday papers in peace!”

Not long afterwards I found the same woman crying on a smaller bed in a room nearby. Consumed with guilt for my sharp words, I made an attempt to offer some comfort. “It’s not you,” she said. “It’s these maths exercises that I have to prepare, and then mark, for the freshers. I don’t think I’m up to the demands of the job of lecturer.” I glanced at the notations in pencil on her notepad. I couldn’t make any sense of them either. Since when had advanced quadratic equations formed part of the first year syllabus, I asked myself?