‘I would have enrolled by post if I’d known the queue would be so long. This college must be highly thought of. By the way, I couldn’t help noticing you’ve put yourself down for 'dance' on your form. You must be fit. Sorry, my name’s Barbara.

‘I'm Janet. Fit? Don’t make me laugh. I‘ve got two left feet. In any case it would only aggravate my asthma.’

‘Oh. I thought as you’d chosen ‘Professional Level’ … you must be experienced. Couldn’t you go for ‘Beginners’?’

‘Oh, no. My friend’s enrolling in that advanced dance class, so I thought I’d join her. What about yourself? Ooh – ‘Music for Concert Performers’. You must have studied for years!’

‘No, I’m tone deaf, but my son’s about to apply for one of these ‘specialist’ secondary schools that goes in for music; I thought knowing some of the jargon might help.

'I say, Barbara, that girl sitting next to you seems to be struggling to fill the form in. I wonder what she’s applying for.

‘Just a minute, I’ll take a crafty peek. She’s been here for ages and she’d only managed to write her name when I last looked – probably dyslexic, or maybe it's a physical problem. She’s holding the pen a bit funny. Just a minute - she’s just filled in the subject line… I can’t believe it! ‘

‘What is it?’

‘Advanced Fiction!’