I thought that I would help BP out by collecting his finished job from the Print Room and taking it up to the meeting. The problem was that I was unfamiliar with the lift system on campus.

I couldn’t work out which lift went up which floors and accidentally ended up at the far side of campus in a lift that served the main library. Inside it a mother and her two small children were fast asleep under a couple of thin grey rugs. I later learned that they were homeless and that the library lift was the best shelter on winter nights.

I was also surprised to discover that the library was hosting book signings just like those in book shops. I walked past a famous author chatting to his fans as he put his signature to copies of his latest orange-jacketed novel. I had no idea who he was, but he appeared to be very popular.

I reached the meeting half an hour late. EH had instructed everyone to analyse a poem. I worked out that I was the only one there qualified to tackle this task. I was proved right when the work was handed in. I had written a mini essay, whereas my more technical colleagues had barely managed to scribble a couple of lines.