Although I’d given up my gym membership long ago, from time to time I still popped into Virgin Active at Edinburgh’s Omni Centre. This was largely because I liked sitting in the café and pretending that it was my own private club.

I’d just endured a difficult morning selling the idea of a third year placement to second year undergraduates. Beside me BP busied himself constructing lop-sided cardboard folders. Now all I wanted was a bit of peace.

I slumped into a chair in the gym café and gathered my thoughts. At the next table I watched a mother chatting to her baby as she dressed him. The child only looked about four months old, yet I clearly heard him respond to his mother’s baby talk with the word “puffin”.

“How extraordinary!” I said to the mother. “I’m carrying rotten tomatoes, a plate of tuna fish, and toy puffins in my bag. Your son clearly has psychic talents! He must be very advanced for his age.”

If you like puffins, check out this other Dreamaticus: A supper of puffin pie.