When I was very small I used to take great delight in playing under tables. Empty ones were private studies, tree-houses or caves, where you could escape from adults too big to fit. While when populated, to crawl through the depths of a forest of legs, both wooden and human, all shrouded by the low clouds of the tablecloth’s hems, was the finest of adventures.

I’m glad that I took advantage of my smallness then, because today I had the sudden sharp realisation that this pursuit was one probably no longer open to me.