Sam gave a long sigh. He put his face in his hands and groaned.
'Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. Unless you count the fact that one of my students asked me a penetrating question about the foliation of space which took me all of thirteen minutes to answer. I got five circulars, two of them identical and I had an argument in the canteen with a Spartacist while eating a soya-bean casserole.'
'You're in a bad way,' I said. 'Arguing with a Spart.'
'Yeah, well he tried to tell me that soya was a sop thrown at the working class to divert it from the struggle.'
'So how was it?'
The soya? Terrible. If that's a sop, then I think we're saved. Anyway, what time are we leaving?'