The young lad on Morningside Road was disposing of goods from his school in charity shops. I called him back when I saw him cross the road carrying the large yellow papier-mâché lolly pop decorated with the words ‘To Daddy love from Emma’. I was pretty sure that this was the art work of the disabled daughter of my former colleague M, and that he would like to see it.

The art work saved, I then entered into a discussion of the boy’s career. He told me that he had an ambition to study architecture at university. I doubted that he would achieve this goal given that he also admitted that he hated maths.