I am off to print out whatever it was I handed in,* confirm my WORST SUSPICIONS, rewrite my Organised List Of Things To Discuss, and then stare fretfully at William Archer (here is a picture of him!) until Tamara takes me to coffee.
N.B. Tamara, I am not expecting you to buy the coffee, I just like the feeling of RESCUE those words convey. Like “Take me to the Ritz”, but crucially unlike “take you to court”.
*a possible draft of Chapter 2