To my utter bemusement, when I walked into the Armenian deli this morning at the usual time, Bad Cop behind the counter thrust into my hands a bag containing brown toast with marmite and a chocolate croissant and a paper cup containing a medium latte. And charged me the right money for it, too.

That’s the order she’s been getting wrong every morning for the last two years. The order I’ve been asking for every morning for two years.

I wonder if she suffered some kind of head trauma last night?