We were having a sociable coffee before dispersing to our desks. A new senior manager had been put in charge and several people were moaning. I didn’t want to tell them that since I had seen the hand-written brown label that our new leader had written, I had been keenly anticipating meeting him. How could they not know that fountain pen ownership and handwriting skills were both indications of ‘super-sexiness’?

I left the meeting and walked around the square to my own workplace. As I tried to make my way to work, my path was blocked by a candle-lit procession of Victorian undertakers and mourners.