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 toward 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 pigeonhole) 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 pigeonhole. This was why I had been surprised to find my pigeonhole 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 pigeonholes (which have been in use since 1904) redundant.