Oxford life. Thirtysomething challenges. Music leanings. Anything really.

Three quarters of the way through a long, hot, sweaty company meeting, my boss was rambling on about how, if we publish a supplement in the Financial Times, our standards will have to be much higher than when we publish in the Sunday Times. Why?

"They're a bunch of pedantics."

"I think you must surely mean pedants, Hamish," I interjected.

Noone noticed this joyous moment of comic irony.