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earnestness. The middle section of his speech now had a yearning quality; a dewy, romantic quality, peppered with every cliché in the orator’s manual.
    ‘Change,’ he repeated. ‘Change can be hard. But, like the lightbulb, change can also be illuminating. The Bursar, the Third Master and I have worked hard with my team and the Governors to put into place a number of necessary changes. Some are financial – the Bursar will explain them in greater detail later, but I’m sure you must know that St Oswald’s has been living beyond its means for years. Others are domestic, and may prove the greatest challenge. But I have every confidence in the staff of St Oswald’s. We have a strong tradition of battling against adversity.’
    And then he looked right at me and said: ‘My Latin Master taught me that, along with so many other things. Ad astra per aspera . The rocky road will lead to the stars. The road to recovery may be rough. But I hope we can get there together.’
    And in the applause that followed that speech, perfect in its cynicism, I wasn’t sure which I hated most: the fact that, for some reason, the man was trying to woo me, or that he was doing it in the language of Caesar.
    Harrington beamed at his audience. I raised my teacup in tribute. The Senate – I mean the Common Room – gave him a standing ovation. Devine’s expressionless features were almost animated. Even Eric said: ‘Hear hear!’– a fact that depresses me more than it should – and Bob Strange looked like a schoolboy cricketer who has been allowed to carry his hero’s bat.
    Ye gods. Can’t they see him? His fakery? But Julius Caesar had his charm – so, too, had Caligula. And so I prepared myself for the worst – for the Bursar’s financial plan and that list of domestic changes – with a sinking, rebellious heart, as Johnny Harrington – now reborn as Dr Harrington, MBE – watched me with a tiny smile, almost like a challenge.
    ‘And now for a look at the future,’ he said, turning towards the Bursar. ‘In his presentation, the Bursar will outline the changes that will make us more competitive, better equipped to deal with the world of business and innovation.’
    Innovation. That explained the viewing screen and the laptop computer on the desk. The Bursar is much addicted to something he calls PowerPoint, a kind of electronic crib-sheet for idiots. I settled in for a little nap. As an Old Centurion of St Oswald’s, there are a number of unnecessary innovations to which I will not submit. PowerPoint is one of them, as is e-mail, in spite of Bob Strange’s persistence in ‘copying me in’ to the minutes of meetings I do not attend, or summoning me to his office by electronic messenger, as if just opening the door and calling down the corridor (or even scribbling a note to pop into my pigeon-hole) were henceforth completely impossible.
    Fortunately, Danielle, Bob’s secretary, is rather more amenable, and for the price of a few kind words and a box of chocolates at Christmas had arranged to print out my e-mails this term and deliver them to my pigeon-hole. This was why I had been surprised to find my pigeon-hole empty this morning, even though the beginning of term is always a morass of paperwork.
    The Bursar’s PowerPoint soon explained the mystery. Apparently, St Oswald’s is to become a paper-free office environment, run entirely online. This, according to the Bursar – a sharp-nosed Scotsman with a reputation as a wit – will make for a greener St Oswald’s as well as a more efficient delivery system, and will make the old wooden pigeon-holes (which have been in use since 1904) redundant.
    According to Harrington, their removal will create more space in the Quiet Room, which needs to be refurbished and supplied with staff workstations – here the Bursar paused in his speech to show us a series of diagrams to illustrate the new desks and the cubicles, each one supplied with a computer, in which we are to sit like