I am driving down the M4 with an agenda.
It’s not going to be the kind of meeting where it would be acceptable to lay down a bullet-pointed schedule of items to be covered, but in my head, I definitely have a list.
The main points are:
Date of Next Meeting.
In fact, the occasion is a visit to Perran in Bristol.
He meets me from lectures looking handsome and happy; we have a delicious lunch at the Boston Tea Party, a wander round the museum, trawl a few charity shops for vintage clothing (Perran) and Latin books (me), then go back to his flat.
There is only one functioning light bulb in the kitchen. Perran tells me they’re waiting for the maintenance man, but I secretly wonder if he has carefully removed the bulbs so I can’t see the true state of the kitchen – which actually looks fine by twilight.
We’ve had a lovely afternoon, but it’s time to go. And the agenda?
All points covered satisfactorily.