Neil was born to tie shoe laces. And so it was I entered work and saw him, hunched over in the hallway, and feeling I had enough momentum to turn on my heel and up the stairs, I sped off without a word. However, the incongruity of a certain detail, surely the unconscious reason for speeding off, had finally rung a bell in my conscious mind. I then yanked myself back in Neil's general direction, checking the purple flyer above his head. It was true. Somone had cut off the reply slip and booked a 1 day course on Sexual Feelings in the Consulting Room. Now who would be doing that? To cover my behaviour I launched a Lovely Day! at Neil, and, in saying the unlovely words, I could feel our toes curling. But who the hell is having sexual feelings in the consulting room? Does Gareth know? Why's he not told everyone? He is paid to be the child of the team. And yet, of course, when it comes to the really important issues, the gossip will always let you down, leaving the last stretch to your own imagination. I entered my room with a huge appetite for nothing in particular so, throwing open the window, I sat on the ledge and lit a quarter pipe.