Two more weeks to go until summer, I repeat inwardly as I follow the click of her heels down the corridor, and then make the swift turn left into her office. It’s more like something you’d see in an inner-city law firm than a south Dublin primary school with its highly polished floor, stripy rugs and splashes of greenery.

A framed photograph of a smiling boy and girl sit on her desk, which shows that maybe somewhere in her hollow make-up is a heart, but I don’t believe a witch like Brady could produce such innocence and beauty. In fact, I’d put money on it that the photo was cut from one of those cute French kiddies’ fashion catalogue and is all for show.

She sits down and exhales so exaggeratedly that I already want to attack her in a very violent manner. It’s so not my nature, but Miss Jean Brady brings out the dark side of me every time she invites me for ‘a chat’.

I wait, preparing my armour for another dig. What will it be this time? Could it be another reminder not to take a cup of tea or even a glass of water into the classroom for health and safety reasons? Or maybe she still has a problem with the way I sometimes don’t fully pronounce my ‘ings’? (Yes, seriously.) Or could it be that I’ve gone and deeply offended one of the eight-year-olds in my class by mispronouncing the surname Althorp again, saying it as it’s written and not ‘Awltrup’ as it should be? That was a biggie.

I wait, wincing inside but trying my best to be brave and thick-skinned.

‘James Leicester,’ she announces, as if I should salute or bow to attention at the sheer mention of a sprog of one of the wealthiest families in school.

‘Yes?’ I say. My face is a blank canvas of expectation. ‘He’s in my class? Lovely boy.’

I use the term lovely very loosely.

‘I had a call from his governess this morning and to be honest I’ve been trying to get a chance all morning to interrupt your class, but I’m at my wits’ end at this stage as to what to do or say to you this time,’ she says to me.

This time? Jesus, this must be bad. I try and think of what the hell I could have done this time. Did I swear in front of the little shit? Call him a brat to his face when I was thinking it? No, I definitely didn’t. I wait …

‘You do know that our children have after-school activities to further enhance the strong focus on core subjects we teach here during the day?’ she continues. She stares at me for a response.