The funniest sight to be had of my wanderings last week was on the night I trundled my office chair home. I’d realised that if I had to work from the dining room table, it would be no good if I did my back in.

So, at 10.30 p.m. I was pushing the five-wheeled blue-upholstered chair past Victoria Station. That was before they had rounded up all the poor down-and-outs. The most resolute or desperate were standing dully, shouting, slumped, or careering about on Boris bikes. I fitted in quite well with my wheeled chair, a carrier bag slung on the wire frame on the back, designed for hanging an executive suit jacket.

Five trundly wheels are not easy to manage on a cambered pavement. The most troublesome parts were the blobby slabs sloping down to crossings at traffic lights. The tiny wheels got stuck. It was no good pulling the chair upwards because it just telescoped on its central spindle.