Ever since Boris Johnson came out in favour of leaving the EU there has been a febrile atmosphere in the shop. The customers are all, naturally, in favour of remaining – it is the standard position among everyone we know; we are Europeans and friends with Europeans, who do not threaten our jobs. We use our English language with the written precision that comes with having lived here for so long, we trade on our articulacy; we employ Eastern Europeans to do the labour we don’t know how to or don’t want to do ourselves. We like the Eastern Europeans especially and it is not simply because we are good people, though we are good, but because such people are useful to us, and being friendly with them gives us a sense of our magnanimous power. Our time is money, better money than scrubbing surfaces or knocking down non-supporting walls with a sledgehammer; and we do not like to overpay for things; we have money precisely because we know we aren’t made of money. By we I refer to our customers, our milieu, not to me and my friends, who paint our own walls, theoretically, hoover our own floors, no longer theoretically due to the feminine influence of Mary. Even so, we do not feel the distance we probably should from our wealthier associates. We have grown used to their presence. We secretly hope that we are down-at-heel members of the same group; we suspect our interests are aligned; we may become like them one day. We. Me. Who am I kidding?

Though tense, the atmosphere in the shop has even become a bit happier than usual. People are animated. They sense the approach of something they won’t like; it’s exciting.

Leo, emboldened by his notices in the Bookseller, by his newly full bank account, by my betrayal at the lecture, has decided I’m a little too flippant in my lack of focus on the world historic and has begun to lecture me on the subject to amend my flaws. I’m a sponge for this sort of oration; men and women are always explaining things to me.

He’s saying something about Israel. I know I’ll agree with him, but not enough for his liking. He is so certain about everything. You’re all so certain.