Sheila has copied the retirement poem into her notebook. Every line fits neatly except the last, which trails into the margin. She could shorten it. She could also pretend the headteacher never interrupted to request a biscuit. But that interruption is the part she likes. She draws an arrow to the final words and leaves them where they are. The notebook closes with the coastal postcard still inside. For once, the filing system can accommodate a little untidiness.